Souvenir
by Mishiko Shinsei
Summary: AU. Now that Mokuba is completely safe from Gozaboro, who's going to save Seto? Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks. Warning: Hints of noncon, child molestation. Rated accordingly. FINAL CHAPTER POSTED!
1. A Picture Postcard

_Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks._

**A Picture Postcard**

I hated my stepfather.

But that's not why I ran away. I'd hated him for years. Gozaboro Kaiba was a cruel man. I knew that before he married my mother. Though only four at the time, I could see the fiend within him.

I begged my mother not to marry him.

"_But you need a father figure in your life, Seto,"_ she'd explained, as though that were reason enough to shackle herself to such a man. My own father had died two years earlier. Pneumonia.

Several weeks after the wedding, I learned the real reason we became his pawns when she started to show. Mokuba was born six months to the day after the wedding. A year later my stepfather's true nature emerged.

He hired a nanny for Mokuba as soon as he was weaned and kept my mother and me far away from him for the next four years of his life.

At least he tried to.

When the Kaiba mansion first became our home, I explored it thoroughly. Though only four, my photographic memory allowed me to retain knowledge of every nook and cranny, every trap door, every secret passageway I found. At the time, I just thought I had a good memory. It wasn't until Gozoboro started 'training' me and had my IQ and retention skills tested that I found out the truth.

During the years Gozoboro tried to keep my mom and I away from my little brother, I used my secret knowledge to spirit us back and forth to see him. Usually I went on my own to the forbidden wing of the mansion where he'd set Mokuba up like a prince. My mom would send notes for him through me and I'd read him bedtime stories. When he'd ask why he never saw us during the day, I'd tell him whatever outrageous lie I could think of that made him feel like he was special for being so pampered.

Then mom died.

I know he killed her. I didn't see him do it, but I know he did.

'Died from an asthma attack', is what his doctors tried to tell me. She didn't even have asthma. There was nothing wrong with her except a desire to see her son.

She'd begun begging Gozoboro to see Mokuba. He'd ignore her most of the time. Until that one day...

"But if I could see him just a little bit more," she'd pined.

I'd gasped involuntarily at her mistake. Gozaboro looked at me and knew. I could tell from his eyes.

He'd smiled at my mother and patted her hand lightly.

"We'll see," he'd crooned, the sugary sweetness of his tone sending shivers up my spine.

The next day my mother was dead. He didn't even allow Mokuba to go to the funeral.

The day after her funeral was the first time he touched me. I was 9.

He'd called me to his office, as he did often to 'test' or 'train' me and I went willingly, knowing there would be no solace anywhere for me with my mom gone. I'd hoped he'd give me a few days to mourn my mother, but when I was summoned, I knew that had only been a pipe dream. I expected more tests and training. What I got was far worse.

I've blocked out most of what happened that first time. I only have bits and pieces.

I remember being glad that I didn't see the table and books set up, I remember his hands grabbing my wrists, I remember pain and crying, but not the act itself.

Every incident after that one is burned into my brain with perfect clarity.

I learned that I wasn't his only victim in the spring after I turned 12. Early one May morning, I heard crying downstairs and left my room to investigate. Gozaboro hadn't touched me for a few days, so I was able to walk around a lot easier and much quieter. Making my way to the railing at the top of the stairs, I saw Gozaboro and a man shaking hands in the front hall. Beside them was a boy about Mokuba's age.

The child had tears streaming and could obviously barely stand. Gozaboro was handing the man, presumably someone of importance based on how the boy clung to him, a large envelope. It took viewing several of these early morning departures with numerous young boys for my brain to completely comprehend the evil that was my stepfather. Even with the continued comings and goings over the next year, he would find his way into my room at least once a week. I probably would have endured until I could move out at 16, if he'd just left it at me and those other random boys.

After my mother died, and Gozaboro began molesting me, he'd tried again to keep me away from Mokuba. About a month after the funeral, while I recovered from a recent attack, he moved Mokuba to another room in the mansion. It took me several days, but I finally found him. I couldn't see him as often because of Gozaboro's visits, but I saw him when I could. Sometimes I had to wear turtlenecks to hide my stepfather's markings. I didn't want Mokuba to know anything about my suffering. Somehow, he was growing into a stable individual and I didn't want to mar that.

In addition to bedtime stories, we played various board games, watched a little TV and had long, rambling conversations about nothing in particular. When he turned 7, I taught him to play chess, one of the few activities forced upon me by Gozaboro that I honestly enjoyed. We'd sometimes spend our hours together on just one game.

After I'd taught him chess, our evenings usually fell into the same pattern; we'd talk and play chess for a while, I'd read him a story, tuck him into bed and then slip back out to my room. I'd then have about an hour to myself before Gozaboro came for me, if it were one of my days. If it were not, I'd collapse into sleep at around 2:30 in the morning.

During the continuation of one of our longer chess matches, I learned the truth of Mokuba's absence at mom's funeral. She'd been cold in the ground for three years and he didn't even know she'd died. . The conversation started when he compared mom to the queen for 'being so strong.' Gozaboro had concocted some tale about her moving to another city to 'take care of her ailing mother'.

"Dad said she was very generous to do that." Mokuba had gushed.

I'd always hated to hear him call that monster 'Dad' with all the affection he laced into it, but couldn't bring myself to shatter his world with the truth before then.

The night I told him about mom was the only time I'd ever stayed more than a few hours. He'd sobbed in my arms and I held and rocked him, soothing as best I could. As night began moving into morning and his tears didn't let up, I'd started to panic. I instinctively knew that I couldn't stay in his room overnight. I knew I couldn't afford to be caught with him. So, I did the only thing I could think of at the time, I pushed him away. He cried harder. I called him a baby. Told him to get over it.

Though he forgave me for it a long time ago, that night is also burned into my mind with perfect clarity.

"_You asshole!"_ he'd screamed at me. I didn't know he even knew such words. _"She may have meant nothing to you, but she was my mom! How can you be so cold! Get out! I don't want to see you anymore!"_

I could have said something then, could have defended myself, but I knew it was getting close to sunrise and I could **_not_** be found there.

"_Whatever,"_ I'd mumbled and left him sobbing on the floor.

I didn't visit him anymore after that. Though even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't once Gozaboro's visits become more frequent. One night a week became two, and then three, and then four. For a solid month he came nearly every night. It took a heavy toll on my body. I was too sore to leave my room, let alone sit for tutoring, or for any of his other 'tests' or 'training'. I'd stopped eating from the shame of being taken by him over and over and lost nearly 20 pounds. He was killing me, but I admit I wasn't fighting death too hard. I suppose that was the lowest point in my life. I wanted to die then.

A crisis with his company and his subsequent disappearance to America for nearly three months saved me, though at the time I wasn't grateful. I still refused to eat for weeks after he'd left.

I guess it's more accurate to say that Mokuba saved me, rather than give credit to Gozaboro's disappearance. Though his disappearance served as the foundation for Mokuba's rescue, it was still Mokuba who performed the act. And I'm sure he had no idea what he did that day, nor does he have any now. Just his presence gave me strength and hope.

He'd worried when I never came back and snuck out of his rooms to find me. Having never been outside of his wing of the mansion before, he'd gotten lost. One of the newer maids had found him, and not knowing what else to do, sought out her superior. As it happened, her superior had just left my room after changing my sheets.

Curiosity had gotten the better of Mokuba as the maids talked and he'd poked his head in my room. His eyes widened at the sight of me lying in bed. I'd tried to make myself more presentable and less ghoulish as he made his way over to me.

"_God, Seto, you look awful!"_ He'd exclaimed._ "What happened to you?"_

"_I've been really sick,"_ I'd lied.

A lie that I've never corrected.

"_Is that why you haven't come to see me in a long time,"_ he'd asked in that small, pained voice I'd eventually come to hate. At the time, I only heard an accusation of abandonment from someone who told me to go away, so I lashed out again at the only person left in my life that cared about me.

"I left because you told me to, Mokuba. Are you now begging me back? Make up your mind. You'll never make it in this world being so wishy-washy!"

"_Seto,"_ he'd gasped, the hurt on his face cutting into me.

"_Whatever,"_ I'd mumbled and turned away, too stunned by my behavior and it's resulting pain for Mokuba. I couldn't face him.

I heard him walk away slowly a few moments later. It would be after Gozaboro's return when I would see him again.

Remembrance of Mokuba's hurt face spurred me into getting better. I had to live so I could explain myself. I couldn't let things stay like that between us. I loved my brother far too much to let him think he meant nothing to me. It truth, he was the center of my universe.

Gozaboro had been home a few weeks when I recovered completely. Thankfully, he'd left me alone all that time. Looking back, I wish I'd wondered about it more, but I guess I didn't care as long as he left me alone. I should have cared. I should have tried to find out why.

Silently slipping into Mokuba's room from the secret passage in the back of his walk-in closet, I was surprised to hear a faint whimpering. As I opened my mouth to call to him before stepping from the closet into the darkened room, I heard another voice.

**_His_** voice.

"_Shhh, Mokuba. I told you it would hurt a little. It didn't hurt that much last time did it,"_ he'd crooned in that same tone he'd used on me all those years ago.

I froze. Torn between running across the room and snatching my beloved little brother away from that sick bastard and running to cower under my bed in fear. Instead, I chose a third option. Swallowing my revulsion and fear, I slipped back into the secret passage and made my way to Gozaboro's office.

I'd known the combination to the safe and of the large sums of cash he kept there for over a year, but had no motivation to use that knowledge. Pulling out three-quarters of the cash, nearly 3,000,000 yen, I made my way back to my room to get ready to run. I only packed essentials, three changes of clothes, mom's picture, my passport, toothbrush, deodorant, and the money. Then using one of Gozaboro's company cards from the safe and my laptop, I purchased plane, bus and train tickets in either Mokuba's or my name to several dozen locations, all leaving on different days over a period of three weeks. To further cover our tracks, I booked 20 hotel rooms as far away as Boise, Idaho in the United States and as close as the Tokyo Hilton, next to my stepfather's building.

In truth, I'd planned to operate on a strictly cash basis.

Making sure to stash money several places on my body, I'd grabbed my full shoulder bag and a large empty backpack and slipped into the passage to Mokuba's room. When I arrived in Mokuba's room again, I found him sobbing on his bed.

I'd frozen in place, momentarily reliving my own horrors at Gozaboro's hands. How many nights had I spent in the same state?

Shaking myself from my stupor, I turned on the bath water then went through his room, packing essentials for him into the backpack I'd brought with me. After putting some of the cash into the backpack and zipping it closed, I moved to take care of Mokuba.

Carefully, I removed his stained pajamas, trying my best to ignore what they were stained with, and put him into the bath. Though he stopped sobbing, his tears never receded, even after I had washed and dressed him and we were on our way through one of the passages outside.

After that night, neither of us would suffer at Gozaboro's hands ever again.

We caught a train to Fukuoka, several hundred miles to the east and never looked back.


	2. A Folded Stub

_Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks._

**A Folded Stub**

Two years.

We'd been safe from him for two years when our luck ran out. Oh, he didn't find us, we just ran out of money.

After moving from Fukuoka to Domino City, about 80 miles down the coast, I'd checked us into a seedy motel with the last of Gozaboro's pilfered money to give myself an address of some sort and started looking.

Eventually, a nice old guy had allowed me to work at his game shop for a few hours in the evenings and on weekends to cover his grandson's shift. The grandson had gone off to college in Kyoto, and the old man, Mr. Mouto, needed some help.

Hn. College. Something I had no chance of achieving as I'd never attended, nor graduated from high school. But maybe Mokuba…

I appreciated the pay, but it wasn't nearly enough money to take care of Mokuba and me. I had to find something else.

To make sure Mokuba ate regularly and to keep a steady roof over his head, I put him in an orphanage. I'd introduced myself to them as Seto Koizumi, 11th grader at Domino High School, my height affording me the luxury of that lie.

"_I found him a few days ago, on my way home from school," _I'd lied as Mokuba cowered behind me. _"I took him home and cleaned him up and all. I thought he could stay with us, but my parents said I should bring him here."_

"_That was a wise decision,"_ the director had smiled, projecting warmth and acceptance.

"_I can only get him to tell me his first name, though,"_ I'd furthered, easing his skittish form toward her.

Once she'd obviously been swayed by our performance, I pretended to assure Mokuba that he'd be all right there. As expected, she mentioned that having someone he knew continue to visit him until he could be placed, might help ease his transition.

"_He'll undoubtedly feel less lonely and abandoned," _she'd concluded, taking in the sight of him clinging to my waist.

"_I'd be glad to help,"_ I'd smiled.

Truthfully, only part of our 'performance' had been for her benefit. Mokuba honestly didn't want to be apart from me, which I completely understood. I didn't want to be apart from him either. But I'd just needed some time to get things together. Time to find better work and a place for us to stay. At the orphanage he would be well taken care of, and I could still see him everyday.

Unfortunately, after almost six weeks, I still hadn't found a new job and still couldn't afford a better place for us to stay, so I went to pick up Mokuba from the orphanage. My plan was to "take him out for dinner" as I had done several times before and we'd simply move on to another city.

I'd packed up everything in the motel, meaning to get it on our way out of town. We'd get something to eat, pick up our stuff and stow away on the bullet train out of town, since I didn't have enough money to buy tickets. I'd planned for us to be 'sleeping' when the conductor came for tickets, if there was a family we could pretend to belong to on the train. If not, we'd hide in one of the bathrooms and steal someone's seat markers after the train pulled off.

Even if we did get caught before we got to the next city, they'd have to wait until we stopped to put us off or have us arrested. I'd even planned what to do if we somehow wound up in foster care. I'd only need a mid-scale computer to hack into any system and alter our records. I'd planned for every contingency surrounding our escape to another city.

Except one.

"_Gone!"_ I'd yelled incredulously

"_Yes,"_ the counselor had gushed happily. _"You won't need to come by and take him on any more outings. He was adopted this morning by a nice family right here in Domino!"_

"_A-adopted,"_ I'd choked. _"He wasn't supposed to be…It was only for a few weeks…Just until I could…"_

"_M-Mr. Koizumi?"_ the director had stuttered.

I remember leaving the orphanage and then nothing else for several days. I didn't go back to the motel. I didn't go back to the game shop. I just wandered around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mokuba somewhere.

At some point, I wandered back to the game shop and Mr. Mouto took me into his home above it. He watched over me as I sobbed about losing Mokuba. After wallowing in my grief for several days, I told Mr. Mouto everything. I told him who we really were, I told him about what happened to us, I told him about Mokuba's adoption…

I don't know why I trusted him, but I just knew he'd keep our secret. He even allowed me back to work at the game shop, offering me a room in his home, rent-free. I gratefully accepted his offer, retrieving our few belongings from the motel. With his support, I started thinking clearer again and decided to look for Mokuba more methodically.

It took me a little over two months, but I saved up some money and bought a new computer for the game shop. Mr. Mouto was very grateful, even when I told him I'd also be using it to search for Mokuba.

"_You don't care Mr. Mouto? It's possible I may do something illegal," _I'd warned.

"_You're an honest young man. I trust you," _he'd responded with a smile.

With his blessing, I'd hacked into the computer records of the orphanage and found my brother. He was actually living fairly close to the game shop.

I stalked them for a while, Mokuba and his new family, the Ishtars. I watched him talk with them, and eat with them, and smile with them. I even caught him doing something with them that he hadn't done with me since before we ran away, laugh. He was playing in their ample front yard with the younger twin boys, Marik and Malik and laughing. His new parents, Isis, a stunning black-haired, blue-eyed beauty and Rishid, a tall, tanned man who would be bald if not for a long, dark brown ponytail, sat on their porch smiling.

I found out everything I could about the Ishtars. Isis and Rishid and their five year old twins were from Egypt. They were living in Domino City while Isis subbed as a professor of Egyptology and Archeology at Domino University for her mentor, an American named Pegasus J. Crawford, on sabbatical after the loss of his wife. She was also the curator for a limited engagement exhibition of Egyptian artifacts at the Domino City museum. Rishid, who'd followed his wife from Egypt and whose current occupation consisted of taking care of their home and kids, had been a curator for the Cairo Museum in Egypt. When I fist saw him, his serious expression bothered me and I worried that he could be capable of hurting Mokuba too. Until that day they played in the yard.

Rishid had joined the boys after a while, running around, rolling in the grass, laughing, actions I'd expected from a caring father. Mokuba had played with him, had smiled at him, had laughed with him. I'd debated making contact, but I had to be sure he was all right. I had to be sure I could leave him there. I had to be sure he was happy.

I showed up at their door one day several weeks later.

"_Yes, may I help you,"_ Mrs. Ishtar had asked politely. I went with the lie I told to the orphanage.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. I learned that Mokuba had been adopted and wanted to say hello. I'm the one who found him and took him to the orphanage."

"_Oh! Well, come right in,"_ she'd gushed eagerly. Her demeanor should have warned me that there was something more going on, but I was so caught up in seeing Mokuba, that I didn't care.

"_Mokuba, you have a visitor,"_ she'd called up the stairs after leading me into the spacious front hall. Of course the house was nowhere near as big as the Kaiba mansion, but it was obvious they lived fairly well.

When he saw me from the top of the stairs, I swear his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"_Seto!"_ he'd exclaimed, launching himself at me from halfway down the staircase. Somehow I managed to catch him without falling onto the marble floor. I don't remember how long we clung to each other and cried, eventually finding ourselves on the floor anyway. I held and rocked Mokuba who continued to sob even after I'd calmed. At some point, he cried himself to sleep, but I hadn't stopped rocking him.

"_Why don't you take him to his room,"_ Mrs. Ishtar had suggested quietly. _"It's the first door on the right. I'll bring you both something to eat later."_

With that statement, I realized she must have known who I was the whole time. Just how much had Mokuba told them?

"_Okay,"_ I'd choked. _"Do you mind if I use your phone?"_

"_There's one in Mokuba's room,"_ she'd intoned, as she helped me to stand with Mokuba in my arms.

"_Thank you,"_ I'd replied as I carried Mokuba carefully up the stairs.

After placing him in the bed of the spacious room, well stocked with books and toys, I called Mr. Mouto to explain why I wouldn't be able to take my shift that night. He replied with understanding and even encouraged me to stay the night if they offered.

They didn't get a chance to offer because I fell asleep next to Mokuba not five minutes after talking to Mr. Mouto. I awoke to Mokuba shaking me, and the smell of waffles; Mokuba's favorite food.

We ate in his room in silence until I apologized for allowing him to get adopted and told him how long I'd been looking for him.

His silence after my confession and apology startled me.

"_A-Are you going to take me away,"_ he'd questioned quietly several minutes later.

"_Do you want me to,"_ I'd pressed.

"_No,"_ he'd replied after a tense few moments. _"I want to stay here, Seto. I want this family to be my new family."_

I could tell it greatly distressed him to admit that to me. I'd pulled him into my arms and assured him that it was okay for him to stay and that I'd come by everyday to see him. I'd further assured him that I'd always be his big brother even though he'd now be a big brother himself.

He'd curled into my arms quietly then, speaking words several minutes later that part of me had expected.

"_I told them, Seto. I told them everything and they didn't send me away. They still wanted me even though…even after…they-they didn't care, Seto. They didn't care that he'd…that he'd…"_

"_Shhh,"_ I'd soothed his quaking form. I knew what he meant. I knew what he felt. Dirty. Used. Unworthy. I'd hoped the abuse hadn't continued long enough for him to have gotten the full impact of the shame, but that was a foolish thought. Even once would have been enough to damage him, let alone the five times he'd told me about. Those feelings wouldn't go away just because we were free.

That afternoon I'd called Mr. Mouto again, promising to resume my shift in the morning to come as it was Friday.

That night I had dinner with the Ishtars, counting Mokuba among them in my head, if not my heart. I had dinner with the Ishtars many more evenings after that, though I did skip that week after they'd told me about their future plans.

As Mrs. Ishtar's teaching and curator stint ended the last week of September of that year, they'd be going back to Egypt. Mokuba would go with them. I stayed away a week because I was angry. And sad. And hurt. I knew I'd probably never see Mokuba again as I had no where near the means to fly to Egypt. The Ishtars suggested I join them and they'd take care of me too, but I didn't want to be a burden. It was more than generous that they took in Mokuba though they had their own children.

So I prepared myself to lose Mokuba forever. He promised to visit as soon as he could, but I told him it would be alright if he waited until he could do it without straining himself or his family.

"_But Seto,"_ he'd cried, _"you are my family!"_

"_I meant your new family, Mokuba,"_ I'd soothed, hugging him tightly. _"They'll have to be your first priority. You're a big brother now. Malik and Marik will depend on you to take care of them. You're the oldest son now. You'll need to be there to support your new parents. I'll still be here once your obligations to them are complete."_

"_What about my obligations to you?"_ he'd sobbed.

"_I'm the big brother, Mokuba. You have no obligations to me."_ That had only made him sob harder; thanking me for everything between his wails of how much he'd miss me.

The last time I saw him was dinner at their house a week after my 16th birthday.

The Ishtars left for Egypt the next day.


	3. A Program Of

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**A Program Of**

It's so cold.

I just wish it wasn't so cold.

I could handle being on the streets before because it wasn't as cold. Besides, the clubs stayed open later, so I would be inside for most of the night. Because of my height, I guess I'm about 6'1" now, most managers and patrons thought me much older than 17.

I draw my jacket around me and look up at the lightly falling snow. Against the backdrop of the darkened sky and the massive trees of the park it's quite beautiful. A flashlight in my face disturbs my commune with nature.

"We've been through this before, boy," the officer sighs, "You can't sleep here. Go to the shelter I told you about."

"Yes, sir," I mumble, allowing him to chase me from my peaceful, if chilly, refuge. I shuffle off toward the now empty streets of downtown Domino, lugging my nearly empty shoulder bag.

I'd been to the suggested shelter once. A large boy tried to take my most recent picture of Mokuba and I snapped. While I held a few bruises, he required several stitches and a cast. They kicked me out of there, calling me a psycho under their breaths. The other shelters I visited after that incident all housed older men, many of whom nearly lost a hand when they groped me.

I'm not allowed in any of the shelters in Domino anymore. The park is the only place I usually sleep comfortably, but since I've been chased out, I'll have to stay awake all night again. Not that it's a big deal if I don't sleep. I've gone days without sleep before. The first time it was out of grief and rage. After that, it was out of necessity.

I look up from watching my feet and nearly fall over once I realize where my aimless wandering has taken me, the game shop.

Or what's left of it.

Despite how long ago it happened, my eyes narrow in rage. If only I'd been here and not off 'enjoying myself for once' as Mr. Mouto had suggested. I look up to the charred remains of the third floor and frown to myself. Last Christmas, some punks wanted to 'teach him a lesson' because Mr. Mouto caught them stealing and kicked them out of the shop. I'd only known him a little while, but Mr. Mouto was the closest thing I've ever had to a real father.

He never even woke up.

The fire destroyed the game shop and again I lost someone important to me.

My room was mostly untouched by the fire, as was much of the residence above the store. However, the smoke from the burning plastic of toys and electronics permeated everything, proving fatal to Mr. Motou and his older lungs and heart.

I'd only been gone for a few hours. I didn't even want to go out that night, but he'd insisted.

"_Seto, the girl doesn't want to keep coming back here. Take her out for a meal at least once,"_ he'd pushed. I didn't even like Akiko like that. She was just some girl I'd met when I bought some flash drives and CD's for backing up computer files. We were just friends.

Or we were until I didn't have any place to stay. Then I became a pariah, a 'street person', unworthy of her time.

I snuck into the church for Mr. Mouto's funeral. A short guy with spiked black hair, sat beside the casket, a look of absolute horror on his face. I assumed he was the grandson, which I later found out to be true. Beside him stood a slim brunette and a voluptuous blonde, both in tears. People kept walking up saying how sorry they were, offering support. I stayed in my seat near the back. Judging by the turn out of several hundred, Mr. Mouto had been well loved.

A taller man with a dangling earring went to console the grandson and the women beside him after a while and the blonde collapsed onto him. After they carried her to the back the service went on until the grandson finally broke.

"Jii-chan! Jii-chan! Jii-chan!" he screamed over and over, knocking over the picture of remembrance and clawing at the casket.

No one could calm him.

I turn away from the shop and the unpleasant memories and wander toward the corporate center of the city. There were usually some warm grates there to sit on. I just hope they're not all full.

To my dismay other bodies just as eager to stay warm cover every square inch of the grates. Grumbling about having to take another long walk in the cold, I make my way toward the hotel district. I've had a fair amount of luck finding places to hole up for the night just outside the Domino Marriott or the Wyndam. By the time I get there, the snow has picked up quite a bit and is mixed with sleet. Scouting the area, I see a spot against the far wall of the Wyndam under an overhang. I pick up my pace to make it there before someone else takes it.

A moment later I'm sprawled on the sidewalk. I guess someone was in a bigger hurry than me. Sitting up, I look over and see someone settling into my spot.

"Shit," I curse under my breath. I jump in surprise when a gloved hand is thrust into my face. I look up to a person covered in a heavy coat, a big, furry hat and a scarf so thick, I can barely see their eyes.

"I'm sorry," the muffled male voice apologizes. "I'm late for work and didn't look where I was going. Are you all right?"

Silently I take his hand and allow him to help me up, not sure how to respond. No one's ever even acknowledged knocking me down, let alone apologized or helped me up.

"I'm fine," I mumble, shivering involuntarily. I'd landed partially in a puddle and now my entire right side is drenched.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Y-yes," I stutter, teeth chattering.

The man pauses.

"I can't just leave you out here all wet when it's my fault. Let me at least give you a place to stay for the night."

I narrow my eyes at him. Now I know why he's being so nice. I want to refuse, but I'm soaking wet and very, very cold.

And it's not like I haven't done it before…

Last winter, my first on the street, I didn't know how to stay warm on my own. So I allowed others to 'help' me. Women mostly, but every now and then, I'd get 'help' from a man. I usually got a meal, a bath and a warm bed out of the deal, so it seemed a fair exchange; my body for their assistance.

Another involuntary shiver reminds me of my frigid surroundings. If not for my height, a nasty girl and a malicious rumor about my age and criminal history, I'd still be safe and warm at the orphanage and wouldn't need this man's 'help.'

"O-okay," I mutter, clutching myself for warmth. I follow him to the back of the Wyndam ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice if he tries to force payment from me before I've gotten my bath, meal and warm bed.

A few degenerate men have tried to force payment. The last one received my knife in his leg instead. Unfortunately, because I left my knife in his leg when I ran, I couldn't fight off that guy who stole my coat a few weeks ago.

It was a really warm coat, too.

The man enters a door marked 'Employee Entrance', motioning for me to follow. Many strange looks are afforded me as I follow him into the employee locker room where he gathers what I assume is his uniform from a tall, grey locker. We then travel through an employee lounge area and more odd looks to a service elevator. If the looks bother him, he shows no sign. In the elevator, I stand as far away from him as possible. It's been more than a week since I've bathed and I don't want him to change his mind about helping me.

"Because I live so far away, I keep a suite here for when I have to work back to back shifts," he explains as we enter the opulently furnished room.

A gasp of surprise and awe escapes me as I gaze around the spacious suite. Stepping slowly into the expansive living room, I note the large kitchen to my right and a nice sized balcony through the thin curtains of the French doors in front of me.

A rustle of clothes behind me draws my attention and I turn to see the man taking off his gloves, heavy coat, jacket beneath the coat and the big furry hat and scarf, allowing them to fall haphazardly to the floor by the door. He turns to me with a smile and my eyes and mouth widen in shock at the blonde, red, purple and black spiked hair and the bright crimson eyes.

He laughs.

"I haven't had anyone look at me like that in a long time," he snickers. After checking his watch, his smile morphs into a deep frown.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to go. Please make yourself comfortable," he calls, grabbing the uniform before closing the door behind him.

Taking my time, I explore the suite thoroughly. There are two bedrooms, the larger of which has a master bath and a few clothes in the dresser drawers and hanging in the closet. Holding up a pair of jeans and then a t-shirt, I realize that the man is several inches shorter than me. I guess I couldn't tell with all of the winter clothes he had on. Well, so much for 'borrowing' something to wear once I get out of these wet clothes.

In the second bedroom I find a temporary solution to my dilemma, a large, fluffy bathrobe.

Shucking my clothes on the floor of the bathroom, I start filling the large tub and then head into the master bath for a quick shower. I can't soak until I get some of this filth off of me.

As I slide into the bath with my now clean body and hair, I try to figure out how I can get the man to buy me a change of clothes. The ones I took off are pretty much in tatters. So much so that I may have to steal some clothes if he won't buy me any. I shouldn't worry. I know I can get him to buy me something. I'll just have to make it worth his while.

The very hot water warms me to the core and reminds me how tired I am. After catching myself sliding under the water asleep for a third time, I decide to get out, towel drying my body and hair and then wrapping myself in the warm, fluffy robe. I should probably get some real sleep. I don't know when the man will be back and I should be rested enough to pay him. Crawling under the covers of the king-sized bed in the master suite, I feel my consciousness draining away almost before my head hits the pillow.

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I awake to the sound of the suite's door being closed.

Sitting up, I rub the sleep from my eyes and smooth my hair out a litle. Remembering the robe at the last moment, I slide it from my shoulders and watch the man enter the room with a yawn, arms stretched above his head. It's obvious he didn't expect to see me by the startled expression on his face and the way he jumps in surprise.

"You scared me!" He laughs. "By the way, this is my room. You can use the second room in this suite."

"Then how will I pay you," I ask, frowning.

For a moment, he looks puzzled, then his face lights with understanding, and then anger and I'm confused.

"I don't do that sort of thing," he glares. "If that's all you followed me here for, you can go, because I won't be paying you."

Paying _me_? Why would he….? Oh….

He thinks I do this for a living.

I look away, feeling more like a piece of meat than I have since I escaped my stepfather. Pulling the robe back around me, I clutch it tightly as I slide from his bed, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Can I at least stay the night," I beg shamelessly. Just one night in a warm bed will sustain me for a few more weeks on the street.

"That's the only reason I brought you here," he replies evenly.

"Thank you," I mumble hurrying to the other room.

Finding hangers in the closet, I hang my damp clothes in the adjoining bathroom, hoping they'll be dry in the morning. Suddenly, I remember that my shoulder bag also got wet when I fell. In a panic, I rip it open, rummaging around and tossing out useless bits of newspaper classifieds, a well-worn and now slightly damp copy of a book about pharaohs from the Ishtars, a travel toothbrush and toothpaste, and a damp chess magazine I stole yesterday afternoon. Beneath it all, I finally find Mokuba's letters.

"Shit!" I exclaim as I discover that four of the five are washed out in various places, precious words lost forever. At least the pictures are basically okay, just a little washed out on the edges. I pull out the latest one and stare at it as I sit in the middle of the queen-sized bed.

He's grown a little more. I can see how much he looks like mom. Thankfully, there seems to be none of Gozoboro in his fine features. The black hair and round, grey eyes are both from my mom, as is the small nose and the dimple on his left cheek.

I really miss him.

I haven't told him I'm homeless. I don't want him to worry about me. After the fire, I used some of the money that I'd had stashed in my room to pay for a post office box and filled out a forwarding request. Both of them run out at the end of next month, so I'll need to figure out something before then.

For now, I'll get a bit more sleep. Morning will be here soon enough.

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I walk briskly through the streets in my freshly laundered clothes, more confused than before.

Not only had the man let me stay the night, but I awoke to clean clothes and a breakfast tray in my room. Even cold, the scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and orange juice were the best meal I'd had in a long time. After eating, I dressed quickly in my clean, warm clothes that had even been sewn up where torn and tattered. Using a piece of hotel stationary I found, I placed a note of thanks on his dresser and left. I didn't know where the man had gone, but I thought it best not to be around when he returned.

I don't want to be anyone's burden or charity case.

Maybe with my clean clothes and a recent shower, I can find a job.


	4. The Play

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**The Play**

I don't know what to do now.

I needed that money to extend the post office box another six months. Now Mokuba won't be able to find me. And I don't even have his pictures or letters to cherish anymore.

I pull my hand away from the cut on my side. It's still bleeding, but it's not that deep. I would have gotten away, if there hadn't been so many of them. I wasn't even supposed to be in that neighborhood, but the bus broke down.

I guess I should have thanked the driver for calling the cops, but if he'd let me stay on the bus, I wouldn't have needed them! So I didn't smell 'petal perfect'! He could have let me sit in the back until the next bus came.

I knew I was in trouble when that blonde dog approached me asking for a light.

At least the cops gave me a ride. And at least the ER is warm.

"Mr. Koizumi," the nurse calls. Hn. I've only been here an hour. That's pretty quick service.

Several stitches and a worthless prescription for antibiotics later, I head back out into the snowy afternoon.

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Gingerly, I pull my frozen hand away from my side. I'm sure it's not supposed to hurt this much. It must have gotten infected when I stayed at that flop-house a few days ago. My instincts told me to avoid that place, but I was so cold…

I still don't know what the hell those bugs were on the blanket. I'm just glad I woke up when I did and they were only on my body and not in my hair or face yet. I shiver at the remembrance of scrubbing my skin raw in the surprisingly clean shower to be sure they were off of me. I think that's when I tore my stitches a little.

At least the police aren't out tonight. Wrapping my arms about myself, I lay down on the park bench, hoping to ignore the pain and the cold just long enough to get a few hours of sleep.

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I don't want to be here, but this is where the police took me, the psych ward of Domino Memorial.

All I wanted was the money I was promised for picking up her trash. That's it. Her idiot boyfriend had to step in and decide that I wasn't worth paying because I was just 'some homeless guy.' A nobody.

A nothing.

She wanted to pay me, had even offered me some clean clothes and a hot meal, but that asshole had to ruin things.

I'd have left him alone if he'd have just stopped taunting me. Calling me 'lazy' and 'worthless' and 'stupid'…

He knew nothing about me! And I told him that. I would have walked away. I would have let them take advantage of my disadvantaged state and walked away in the cold. My side was killing me and I'd still picked up her trash! And he had the nerve to call me lazy!

I would have walked away.

But he made the mistake of touching me. Grabbing my arm and tossing me into the pile of trash I'd just picked up.

I'd only managed about an hour and a half of sleep in the park, which had been my first rest in nearly three days before the cops showed up and chased me out. And I was so hungry. And my side hurt. And I really needed to sleep, but without a safe place, I couldn't take the chance. Then it snowed again. Heavily. I stayed up the rest of the night, wandering around.

The following day proved just as hellish as the days and nights before it. I'd planned to curl up in the alley behind the apartment building, letting the pain and fatigue claim me, and deal with the consequences when I woke up.

Until she saw me huddled there. She spoke with kind words, offering me money and food to clean up the garbage behind the building. I complied, though I could barely stand, because she seemed nice.

But that asshole…

From my place in the trash, I watched him push the woman away and then start laughing at me. And I had to hurt him.

I don't remember wrapping my hands around his throat or how many times I slammed his head into the sidewalk, but the next thing I knew, three bystanders and two policemen were holding me down on a stretcher and I was screaming that I'd kill him.

Then I woke up here. I'd been brought in on a 72-hour psychiatric hold.

The nurse who came in last night told me I would be here until they got rid of my infection.

At least the bed is warm and clean and my side doesn't hurt as much.

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That week in the hospital felt like a stay at a resort.

I pluck at what's left of my shirt under the warm coat they gave me when I was released. It's really rancid and needs to go. Looking up from my place on the grate, I see that crazy homeless guy from behind the convention center.

And he's eyeing my coat.

Great.

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They always want to kiss me. This one's no different. I turn my head and his lips find my cheek leaving a sloppy wetness. I feel the smirk against my neck before a harsh bite. His hands play with my nipples in the misguided attempt to stimulate me. Only my body responds.

"Are you just going to lie there?" he moans, sliding his arousal against my thigh.

I don't answer.

He continues lightly touching me all over. I close my eyes and, as always, try to picture anything but Gozaboro Kaiba. Perhaps because this one is being so gentle, I succeed, placing myself in a wide clearing, watching a four-year-old Mokuba play tag with an errant butterfly.

Questing fingers at my entrance yank me back to reality. I force myself to relax as his slick fingers enter me. I'm pleasantly surprised to feel a condoms sheath as he enters me a few minutes later. Most don't bother. I steer my thoughts from that track and focus instead on my legs being lifted to his shoulders.

He'd originally wanted a basic blowjob, until I made a counter offer. He liked my terms. I spent a luxurious 20 minutes in the shower. For dinner, we had ramen, something simple but welcome as I hadn't had anything at all for the two days prior. The promise of a warm bed later entices me.

I gasp as one of his hands encircles my half-hard organ. He's very considerate, but it's not going to happen; I won't orgasm for or with him. I can't.

Giving up on further stimulating me, his hand returns to tightly grasping my waist as his thrusts accelerate and his breathing becomes erratic. With a groan, he bites into my shoulder, shuddering now with how close he is. In moments, I feel the throb of his release emptying into the condom. When he gets up from the bed to dispose of it, I head for my pre-arranged place on the couch to sleep.

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People are so wasteful.

But I suppose I should be glad of that

Just this week I've had beef filet and lobster. After I scraped some of the other garbage off, they didn't taste too bad. There was also a donburi still in the carryout bowl.

A new place just opened down the block. They advertised something called 'cajun shrimp.' I'm sure I'll get a taste of it soon.

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'Protect and serve.'

Right.

I'm sure what's happening here has everything to do with _'protect and serve.'_

The guy was already dead. Those Yakuza made sure of that. He didn't need his wallet anymore. I should have just dropped the wallet and run, or at least not fought back when they grabbed me, but I panicked.

I should have done anything not to wind up here.

The one behind me picks up his pace as a hand grips my hair and I know they'll be done soon.

"Swallow," the owner of the hand commands.

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Gods, Mokuba, I'm glad you can't see me now. I don't recognize myself anymore, so I know you wouldn't know me. The things I've had to do just to stay alive out here…

I hope you never find out about them, Mokuba. About me. About what an animal I've become. Maybe I should have just stayed with Gozoboro. At least I had somewhere to sleep and food to eat and only had to worry about dealing with one rapist a night. And at least I got to sleep more than twice a week for a few hours.

What am I thinking? I couldn't have left you in that hell. At least you're safe. But I'm just so tired of this life, Mokuba. So tired.

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I really miss Mokuba. I hope he's still happy and that the Ishtars are taking good care of him.

I don't remember when I last slept. The park isn't safe anymore since the temperature warmed up, too many people around wanting to hurt me just for fun. No matter how hard I tried, no one at the orphanage believed I'm only 17. I'd just found a good corner in the subway down the block when the attendant had the policeman kick me out. And I'm still not welcome at the shelters.

I just need a few hours. There has to be somewhere I can go…

Stumbling drowsily, I find an opening in a quiet, familiar place and slump to the ground.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I find myself awakened by a hand shaking me vigorously.

"Hey! Hey!" The man calls. "C'mon, I can't let you sleep here."

"Please," I beg, "Please just leave me alone." I feel tears of exhaustion running down my face, but I can't stop them. I'm just so tired. Why can't he just let me sleep for a few hours? It's been so long since I've found a safe place to sleep. Here under the overhang is perfect. I just need a few hours.

"Please," I sob. I feel him retreat and think that my ordeal is over. Instead, I feel a pair of strong arms lifting me a few moments later. I want to protest, but I can't find my voice between the sobs.

"He's a bit ripe, Yami," the man carrying me asserts.

"I know, Raphael," the one who woke me retorts, "but I can't just leave him out here. Please take him up to my room and hold him while I run the bath."

"I'll definitely support you cleaning him up," the big man quips. "But maybe a shower would be better."

"He's in no condition to stand, Raphael."

"Then let him sit. I'll grab a folding chair from the back on our way. Your shower's big enough to hold it."

I drift off for a few minutes and open my eyes to find myself lying prone on a bathroom floor and slim fingers unbuttoning my shirt. A larger hand pulls at my shoes. I want to resist their hands removing my clothes, but I'm too tired to move and this floor is almost comfortable.

I don't know which of them scrubs me down and washes my hair, but it's the big man who lays me down in the bed after the smaller one dries me off and towels most of the water from my hair. The feel of the soft, warm bed is intoxicating. I barely feel the robe wrapping around me as I collapse into sleep.

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I awake with a start, barely able to catch my breath.

Just a nightmare. Gozaboro can't harm us anymore.

I move to sit up and frown when I realize that I don't know where I am. Was I drugged again? If so, how long was I out this time? Gingerly, I move to get out of the bed, expecting soreness, if not outright pain to greet me, but nothing hurts. In fact, I feel very well rested. But where am I?

I make use of the adjoining bathroom before peering out of bedroom to view the rest of what must be a suite of rooms at an expensive hotel.

Looking cautiously around the door frame, I spot two men seated at a round table talking and eating various breakfast foods. One of them is a rather large blonde. The other is mostly hidden behind a pillar, his voice the only identifying trait at the moment.

My stomach grumbles loudly at the sight and smell, reminding me I haven't eaten in days.

I must have come back here with them for the night and fallen asleep after I bathed, though I don't remember any of that. I wish I could sit down and eat with them, but I'm sure they'll want some form of payment for the use of their shower and the bed.

Running my fingers through my overlong hair to give it some sense of order and opening my robe suggestively, I casually make my way over to them, meaning to offer myself to the hidden man first. He had to be smaller than the blonde since the pillar could hide him. If I had to take on both of them, the smaller would be easier for the first round.

But as I step to where I can see the other, I stumble back in surprise.

"You!" I exclaim, knowing the man by sight and also instantly where I am. The colorful spikes and crimson eyes of the man who took me in, fed me and even had my clothes cleaned and mended were burned into my mind forever. How could I forget the only person to help me without payment in more than two years?

Suddenly ashamed, I pull the robe around me tightly, just like I did that day and head back to the bedroom.

"Wait!" he calls out. "Why don't you join us? There's plenty of food."

"I-I'm not hungry," I lie, almost running away. I don't know why. It's not like I have anywhere to go. And even if I did, I have no idea where my clothes are. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I sink dejectedly onto the soft mattress, inexplicably shaking. I guess he'll be expecting payment this time, so he won't lose face.

A soft knock at the door startles me.

"What?" I snap.

"Listen," he begins calmly, "Raphael's gone, so if you want to come out and eat now, you don't have to worry about him anymore."

"What about you," I smirk.

"What about me?" he counters.

"I can pay you now or later," I assert, "It's your choice."

There a long pause before he replies.

"Are you still doing that," he questions evenly.

"I have to survive, don't I?" I snap.

Another long silence.

"Would it be alright if I came in? This conversation is awkward enough without having to yell through the door."

"It's your room," I shrug, forgetting that he can't see me.

He opens the door and takes a seat in the chair near the window.

"How old are you?" he frowns.

"Does it matter? As long as you get what you want, you should be happy."

"I told you before I'm not after that," he snips, leaning toward me.

"Then why am I here?"

He sits back, exhaling forcefully.

"I couldn't just leave you there," he offers as explanation.

"Yes you could. Anyone else would have."

"Well, I'm not anyone else."

"What do you want from me?" I yell. His show of concern is making me uncomfortable.

He stands with a sly grin.

"Right now, company for breakfast. And since I know you're starving and you can't go anywhere dressed like that," he gestures at the robe I've been inadvertently clutching to my body, "you might as well join me."

"Fine," I mumble, heading out of the bedroom.

I'll get something to eat, have him buy me some new clothes, pay him and be on my way. He acts concerned, but I know he'll expect something in return for these 'kindnesses'.

I just hope it's something I can afford to give him.


	5. File Away

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

****

**File Away**

He's toying with me.

I've been here for five days, eating his food, sleeping in that warm bed, using his shower, wearing the new clothes he's bought me, and he hasn't asked for payment yet.

The larger man, Raphael, comes by often and is always looking at me oddly. Maybe Raphael is the one actually funding all of this and Yami plans to give me to him as payment.

"Seto," he calls from the front room.

I follow his voice. Maybe he's ready for me to pay him.

"What?"

"Seto, I'm off for the next few days, so we'll be going back to my house instead of staying here."

I frown at him and take a step back. Why would I follow him home?

I look up at the sound of the suite door opening. Raphael. I frown at Yami again. Why is Raphael here? Insurance that I don't run away when he tries to make me follow him home?

"Seto? What's wrong?"

There's that concerned face again, but it's too late. I've figure out why he never asked for payment. He needed me indebted so that he could take me back to his house. And I fell for it.

Stupid.

"When do we leave?" I ask calmly.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll get you a suitcase for your things. Raphael is driving us."

Of course he is.

I can't believe I didn't see this coming. Yami just seemed so nice… Maybe it won't be that bad. Yami shouldn't be a problem and I think I could handle Raphael if I needed to. I just hope there are no more "houseguests."

"Seto?"

I turn away from those "concerned" eyes and go back into my room.

Hn. "My room." I should have left that first day after I woke up. I could have stolen some clothes from somewhere before I left the hotel. But I got comfortable with having a bed and clothes and food and a shower and I forgot.

Forgot that this isn't my life. Forgot that I don't have a home. Yami made me forget. On purpose. And now I owe him.

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I didn't eat dinner with them last night or breakfast this morning.

I'll have to keep careful track of my debt from now on if I don't want to wind up staying with him (them?) forever. Eventually I'll need to get away and find Mokuba. I'll be 18 this fall. Maybe I could get a job that pays well enough for me to go to Egypt.

As Raphael drives, Yami keeps looking at me and frowning. And asking me if I'm all right.

"I'm fine," I answer again.

"You don't look fine, Seto."

'How should a sex slave look, Yami?' I want to ask. Instead I turn away to the window. I feel his eyes on me periodically during the rest of the hour long ride.

We pull up to the house and I feel sick. It's so picture-perfect homey that it has to be a fake. A beautiful, warm blue paint covers its two-story frame; the silver chain-link fence enclosing a small yard, a koi pond near the side of the house just before the small, but lush garden.

Raphael takes our bags inside. He doesn't even bother to hide that he's brought one too and will be "staying with us".

Yami puts me in the room next to his. Raphael will be on the king-sized sleeper sofa.

"Make yourself at home," Yami smiles at me as I put my small suitcase on the bed.

I skip lunch and eat very little dinner. My food intake is the only thing I can regulate since the clothes and toiletries are already bought and paid for. I'll just do one meal a day and that should keep my debt from escalating too far.

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After three days, Yami says he and Raphael have to go back to the hotel for work, suggesting I stay at his house until he returns in a few days.

"Sure," I agree readily.

As soon as he and Raphael drive off, I stuff some clothes into a shoulder bag I find in a closet and head out. I don't like running out on a debt, but he gave me the opportunity. Maybe once I've gotten a job and a place to stay, I could pay him back over time.

Reaching the end of his street, I realize that Yami's house is farther away from the city than I thought. Deciding to take a chance anyway, I pick a direction and start walking. Checking the watch I slipped off of Yami's dresser, I figure it shouldn't take more than four hours to get back to an area I'm familiar with.

Eight hours later, I find myself back at Yami's door, having walked in a wide circle without finding a way out of the neighborhood. It's no use. I can't get away. That's why he brought me out here. And why he suggested I stay in the house. He knew I wouldn't be able to go anywhere.

Since I'm here, I may as well go back inside. I stand in the dark for a few minutes staring at the front door since I don't have a key. Maybe there's a loose screen or one of the windows is unlocked. After checking both front windows and trampling the garden over the side window, I find a loose screen and an unlocked window in the back. Tossing the bag inside, I start to pull myself through when I hear a command to 'Stay right where you are' behind me. Over my shoulder I see two police officers carefully advancing.

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"Yami couldn't come, so you're being released into my custody."

I look up through the bars to find Raphael's angry scowl. The officer unlocks the cell door and I follow them silently. I suppose there will be some sort of punishment for my trying to escape, which is probably why Raphael is here and not Yami. The ride back to Yami's house is completely silent, allowing me time to prepare myself.

After unlocking the door and roughly drawing me inside, Raphael heads into the kitchen and starts whipping up a stir-fry of chicken and bean sprouts.

"I assume you haven't eaten," he states, gruffly.

"No."

"Yami wouldn't want me to leave you hungry," he grumbles a few minutes later while dipping the finished meal onto two plates.

Deciding to eat since this would be my one meal for the day, I slip into the chair across from him at the small kitchen table and dig in.

Raphael breaks the tense silence after I've finished my meal.

"You should be grateful," he snaps as I stand. "Instead of trying to run away, you should be grateful that Yami took you in."

'Gratitude from a sex slave? That seems a bit ridiculous to me,' I think to myself as I watch him from the sink where I've placed my empty plate. I can't help but hold my breath as he comes my way after glaring at me for a few moments. Now that I'm well fed, it must be time to pay him.

His plate dropping in the sink startles me. I'm further at a loss when he heads for the front door afterward. I follow a moment later, confused by his actions.

"Yami's always been more soft-hearted than he should be," Raphael sighs, placing his hand on the doorknob. "That's why you should be glad that he's the one who found you."

What is he talking about? How is keeping me here for his personal use soft-hearted? Is he saying that Yami doesn't expect any payment?

"If Yami hadn't asked me to help, I'd have left you there," he sneers over his shoulder, stepping out into the late night and closing the door behind him.

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After four more days trapped in the empty house, Yami comes back.

I hear the front door open and close as I sit at the desk in my assigned room. There's a fairly extensive library of books on the living room shelves and I'd lost myself in a few historical novels in my solitude. I enjoy being able to read without worrying about the building closing or having to steal something.

"Seto?" Yami calls from the bottom of the stairs.

I mark my place and head down, unsure of what to expect. Raphael's actions and his words about Yami still have me confused as to what's going on.

"Are you alright?" he questions with that concerned face.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I scoff. Seeing that face again I know he has something planned. Raphael must be wrong.

"Well, you were in jail for almost 30 hours," he smirks.

I shrug and turn to go back upstairs. At least I got to sleep indoors, which is something I never take for granted.

"Are you hungry?" he yells as I re-enter my room. No, it's not my room. It's my 'assigned room'. I don't want to forget again.

"No!" I yell down.

"Good! Dinner will be ready in about an hour!" he yells back. I shake my head in disbelief and close the door.

I'm in the middle of a paragraph when Yami interrupts me. He's singing. At the top of his lungs. And not very well. Realizing that I'll never be able to go back to my book with that racket, I head downstairs to get him to stop singing, or at least sing quieter. By the time I step into the kitchen, Yami has turned the radio down and stopped singing. Instead I catch him poking holes into the side of a half-dozen medium-sized pastries.

"Where did you buy those," I ask about the delicious looking treats, slipping into a chair at the table.

"Buy?" he replies indignantly. "I made these. I would never buy a pastry."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a master chef. It would be ridiculous for me to buy pastries or tarts when I can make them better than anyone else," he scoffs, putting the pan of goodies back into the oven and leaving the door open a crack.

"Is that what you do at the hotel?"

"Yes," he smiles, "I'm the top master chef of this prefecture and one of the best in the country."

"Is that why they let you have that room?" I don't know why I'm asking all of these questions. It's not as though I'll need to know this information once I've paid him and left.

"It's one of the perks they give me for staying with their hotel and not going somewhere else or opening my own shop," he replies, pulling out some instant ramen for both of us.

"Is that all you know how to cook," I smirk at the ramen.

He starts, and then laughs.

"Basically, yes!" he snickers. "So if you want something more, you'd better cook it yourself. Or call Raphael."

At the mention of his name, the words he said about Yami return to me.

"_Instead of trying to run away, you should be grateful that Yami took you in." _

"Yami's always been more soft-hearted than he should be…" 

"… _you should be glad that he's the one who found you."_

Yami did say that he didn't want payment when I first met him. And after he took me in this time he said that he didn't want that from me. And he hasn't tried to anything the whole time I've been around, either here or at the hotel.

Maybe…

"Seto? What's wrong?" his concerned voice and face interrupt my thoughts. I'm trying to come up with a response when he touches my hand, lightly running his thumb across the top. I snatch it away and glare at him.

Nice try, Yami, seduction instead of coercion or force. I storm up to my assigned room, slamming the door behind me.


	6. The Photographs

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**The Photographs**

When Yami leaves for work this time, he leaves me with a key. A key. As if I am a welcomed guest instead of an indebted sex slave. I wait a day to see if either he or Raphael will return sooner than the four days he'd told me that he'd be gone, and then I leave. Now that it's warmer and I don't look like a starving street kid, maybe I can find a job of some kind in the city.

I have to get away from Yami.

The neighbor down the street sometimes talks to me when I step out for some air or to help Yami in his garden or he and Raphael with groceries. In exchange for a few hours weeding his garden, the balding, middle-aged man drives me back into the city after I've showered and grabbed my full backpack.

The first thing I do after being dropped off is try to find a job. I try everyplace I can, from one of the big hotels downtown, to the restaurants whose garbage I used to eat, to a motel like the one where Mokuba and I lived, to the hospital that treated me, and even to one of the homeless shelters that threw me out.

Unfortunately, whether it's because I don't fit the profile of the person they're looking to hire, or that I don't have any job references, or just bad timing, there's nothing available.

After three days and half of those nights looking, I realize that my quest for employment has become a futile one and I'll have to fall back on my earlier skills.

Or at least I try to.

The slim blonde is just like the others whose requests I'd filled to keep from sleeping on the streets. I haven't eaten anything in nearly three days and have only slept an hour of two each night when he approaches me outside of a small café. I bargain with him for six meals and three days and two nights in his apartment in exchange for spending the two nights in his bed. We have a fairly large vegetarian meal for dinner and I follow him home to pay my debt; a debt that I can manage, not like the one I owe to Yami.

At the slightly taller man's urgings, I shed my clothes, take a shower, and slip my clean body under the covers of his bed. I lie there in compliance to our arrangement, but when he touches me, I feel repulsed by the thought of giving myself to him.

"W-wait," I stutter, pulling away and climbing from the unbelievably soft bed. Violet eyes narrow in annoyance as I back further away from his grasp.

"Are you attempting to back out of our deal?" He sneers.

"No," I answer with finality.

I step back into his embrace, allowing him to do whatever he wants to my body. At the end, I find myself violently ill in his small bathroom.

"What's wrong with you?" He demands through the door.

"You assured me that you were clean. You better not have been lying." He threatens.

It's a little too late to say that now, since, like most, he didn't want to use a condom.

"S-something I ate," I manage before dry heaving into the toilet again.

"Hn. Probably some animal or animal by-product," he scoffs. "I'm going to sleep. Don't disturb me."

I hear him move away from the door. Eventually, I'm able to pull up from the bathroom floor, wash my face and hands and rinse my mouth with mouthwash from his medicine cabinet. Catching sight of my face in the mirror, I stare at the person reflected there. It's not the pale, sickly skin that stops me cold; it's the confusion and fear present in my eyes that disturb me. I didn't look like this before Yami took me in. Before him, I never cared what I looked like in the mirror. But now…

I don't recognize myself anymore.

Stepping from the bathroom, I find the blonde lying on his back asleep. Gathering my clothes, I get dressed and leave.

I can't do this anymore. I can't live on the streets eating garbage and bargaining for a place to sleep at night. Yami took that away from me. He knew that once I got used to a warm bed and regular meals that I wouldn't be able to come back.

He tricked me again.

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It takes another day for me to get back to Yami's house, the night spent on the street in between one I hope to soon forget. Absently, I lick at my busted lip. That albino and his brown-haired accomplice tried to roll me for my shoes and backpack. It cost me a busted lip and a quite few bruises, but I got them off of me and out of the park.

I hitch about two miles out of the city, but since I can't find anyone else to give me a ride, I have to walk most of the way. The sun is setting when I finally reach my quaint, blue prison.

Using the key Yami gave me, I open the door and step in, meaning to go straight to my assigned room. Instead, I find myself painfully slammed back into the closed door behind me.

"Where the hell have you been?" Raphael growls. "Don't you know Yami has been worried sick? He's out in the streets right now looking for you!"

'Probably to make sure no one else picks up his property,' I think to myself, keeping silent in the face of Raphael's rage.

Obviously angered by my lack of response, Raphael drags me up to my assigned room and shoves me inside. I'm surprised to hear a lock engage after he slams the door behind me. Did he really lock me in here? Testing the doorknob, I find it locked from the outside. Stunned by his action, I slowly sink onto my bed.

Maybe Raphael will actually demand payment this time.

Maybe he will actually hurt me.

I swallow in fear at that prospect.

When more than an hour passes and he doesn't come back I relax a bit.

After tossing the dirty clothes from my backpack into the hamper by the closet, I drop the empty bag on the floor next to the door. Grabbing a half-read book from the shelf next to the window and sit back down on the bed. Until Raphael decides to let me out, I guess I'll read.

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I awaken on my back from a light doze, to find the book open across my chest and Yami standing over me, an array of emotions flitting across his face. I study him for several moments before he notices I'm awake. His eyes widen in surprise upon catching mine and he takes a step back.

"You're awake," he comments with a fake smile.

I look away and don't respond, wondering at his calm. As angry as Raphael was, there's no way that Yami can be this rational. He must be waiting for me to let my guard down to show his true feelings.

"I'm sure that you're hungry," Yami begins, heading toward the open bedroom door, "so, after your shower, come down to the kitchen and get something to eat."

Accepting my role as Yami's possession, I do as he subtly commands; shower, change and go down to the kitchen.

I'm not surprised to find a scowling Raphael at the stove, nor Yami standing nearby, but I am surprised by their vehement argument.

"Yami, you're crazy for letting him stay here!" Raphael yells.

"I can't just throw him out in the streets, Raphael!" Yami snaps back.

"Why not? That's where he came from! He's trash, Yami! You can't fix him! You need to let him go!"

"He's not trash! And he's not from the streets! I know that's where I found him, but he's not really a street kid. I can tell. He just needs a friend! That's why he came back. Why can't you see that?"

"He needs a meal ticket, you mean," Raphael scoffs. "When are you going to face facts, Yami? Your soft heart is allowing you to be taken advantage of again. Just like with Otogi."

"Otogi!" Yami exclaims, eyes wide with shock. "How the hell can you compare… That's not even the same!"

"You took him in and look how he repaid you!" Raphael yells.

"Took him in? We moved in together! That's nothing like what I'm doing with Seto!" Yami sputters indignantly.

"Isn't it?" Raphael hisses angrily, causing Yami to step back with a frown.

"What are you talking about?!" Yami blinks back at him.

"I've seen you watching him, Yami," he growls dangerously.

Yami gasps in surprise and steps away from Raphael.

At Yami's stunned retreat to the dining room table, I decide to make my presence known. Stepping into the now deathly silent room, I nod a cursory greeting to Raphael's furious gaze and slip into the chair across from Yami.

"I'm glad you came back," he looks up from the tabletop, offering me another fake smile, which for some reason really bothers me, not that I say so.

I don't say anything.

Yami pins me with the same odd gaze from earlier for a minute or two before getting up to talk quietly with Raphael.

Dinner is devoid of any conversation. Any verbal conversation, that is. Raphael's face and eyes scream contempt and distaste at me the entire time, while Yami's eyes and face alternate between admonishing Raphael and assuring me. I'm very glad when I can go back to my assigned room.

I've gotten ready for bed and am about to turn off the lamp when a quiet knock comes to my door.

"Seto?" Yami calls.

"It's open."

He comes in and closes the door behind him.

I know what he wants to talk about.

"There's no need for you to run anymore, Seto. I told you that you can stay here as long as you want," he asserts, sitting on the bed beside me.

"I can't pay you, Yami. I shouldn't stay here if I can't pay you back."

"We'll work something out, Seto. I don't want you going back to the streets. That's no way to live and you don't have to anymore."

"But, I can't pay you, Yami," I repeat. "I owe you so much, but…"

I have to explain better. He has to know that I won't be able to give my body to him as payment like I'd expected and planned. I can't now.

"You don't owe my anything, Seto. I'm just glad that I was able to help you," he smiles, this time genuinely.

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The next day, Yami acts as though nothing had happened and we go back to our routine of me sitting around the house, occasionally helping Yami in the garden and waiting for him to come home from work.

Raphael doesn't make an appearance for several weeks, which concerns me as Yami's bright spirit begins drooping noticeably. I offer to leave so that Raphael will come back, but he dismisses my suggestion with a wave. I'm about to find Raphael's number and ask him to come back myself, when he finally shows up. It's been over a month and Yami looks happier than I've seen him in quite a while.

The first time Raphael comes over after his long absence, he barely looks my way and pointedly avoids me for the entire two days that he's here. He even goes so far as to cook only enough food for he and Yami to eat, forcing Yami to share some of his with me. Yami behaves as though Raphael isn't treating me like something he scraped off of his shoe, making it a point to include me when they eat and baking extra treats.

Frankly, Yami worries me a lot more than Raphael. I understand Raphael. To him, I'm a lying, conniving piece of street trash who will eventually turn on Yami and hurt him badly. And I can't offer him any proof that I won't.

Because I'm not completely sure that his assessment is wrong.

But Yami confuses me. I don't know what he wants or why I'm still here in his house. The only thing I contribute is to the size of his food bill! Maybe if I did some work around the house, cleaned, washed dishes, cooked something. Then maybe I wouldn't feel like I'm going deeper into debt with him. Then maybe Raphael will stop harassing Yami about me.

After his first visit following the month-long absence, Raphael has spent nearly every day here when Yami isn't at work. And nearly everyday they get into a fight, which somehow involves my staying here. I can tell that it's straining their friendship, which is another reason that I don't understand Yami's actions.

Listening to them argue, I learn that he and Raphael have been close friends since they were children. I also learn about Otogi Ryuuji and why Raphael hates him so much.

And why he sees him in me.

Yami helped Otogi to get back on his feet after suffering the loss of his home and family in a house fire. The fire had also destroyed the hair salon that Otogi ran in his basement, effectively costing him his only means of support as well. Yami met him on the street near the end of his apprenticeship with a master chef in Tokyo. Otogi wasn't homeless then, but just barely as his shoeshine job didn't provide much. Yami found him a job and a place, and in Yami's words "his lost dignity."

Raphael and Yami's arguments never disclose the full story, but I do find out that Yami fell in love, while Otogi had only been using him to finance the re-building of his hairdressing career. They'd moved in together, and at some point Otogi started bringing home strange women, claiming they were clients. It had been Raphael who'd found out the truth. Raphael who'd had to explain why Otogi moved out unexpectedly. Raphael who'd had to help Yami piece himself and his career back together after Otogi's betrayal had shattered both.

Yes, I understand Raphael's contempt for me; why all he can see in my presence was Yami being hurt again.

Knowing all of that, Yami's actions make even less sense to me. At least when I thought he wanted me for sex, I understood him, but now…

Why the hell am I here?

"Seto!" Yami's yell up the stairs intrudes into my thoughts.

"What?" I snap, loudly.

"Come on! It's time to go meet Raphael for lunch and buy groceries!" He yells back.

Even after a month of regularly fighting with Raphael, Yami has still refused to change his routine concerning their time together. Every other Tuesday, he drags me out to lunch with him and the huge angry blonde and then grocery shopping with both of them. I suppose I could simply stay in the house and avoid the whole situation, but I find Yami's standing up for me makes me feel…good.

We pull up in Yami's car at the regular café' and Raphael is standing there glaring, as usual.

"Why the hell do you have to always bring him, Yami?" he snips as we all take a seat outside for a change.

I tune out Yami's response and their subsequent quietly heated argument as I look around, enjoying the sights of a pleasant summer afternoon. I also realize that sitting outside the café is much nicer than sitting in. I'm glad that it has cooled enough for us to do so today.

Across the street, I see a family of four enjoying lunch at another café. There's a mom, a dad, and two sons who look about 5 and 10 years old. I catch myself staring as I wonder if Mokuba is having outings like that with the Ishtars. I hope so. I continue to gaze at the family while they smile and laugh and obviously enjoy their time together. My mind drifts as I wonder what it would have been like to have that kind of childhood. After another few minutes, I tear my gaze away and watch cars go by instead.

I've tried not to think too much about Mokuba because it hurts so badly not to have him near me. But seeing that family reminds me of how well the Ishtars took care of Mokuba and how happy he was with them. I wish I could talk to him. Tell him that I love him. Tell him that I miss him. Yami has a computer. Maybe I could use it to…

A flash out of the corner of my eye and loud chattering pulls me from my musings.

"Chef Yami, do you and Chef Raphael still deny that you are a couple?" A slim brown haired woman with bright green eyes and a mini-recorder prods.

"Chef Yami, is it true that you two have a little love nest outside of the city where you escape to when you're off duty?" A scary looking blonde with black chopsticks to match her black suit intones.

"Chef Raphael, is it true that you and Chef Yami are planning nuptials in the near future?" The green-eyed woman insinuates, sticking her recorder up to Raphael's face.

"Get away from us!" Raphael bellows.

His outburst only seems to encourage them as more questions about their relationship are thrown before the tide turns on the words of a tanned, black-haired woman with bright red lipstick.

"And who's this handsome addition? Is there perhaps a love triangle in play?" She purrs at me.

Her question incites the others and they move as one toward me. I see the camera's flash a moment too late to put up my hands.


	7. Your Holiday

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**Your Holiday**

Yami's laughter reminds me where I am and what's going on around me.

Raphael is driving us back to Yami's house and they're laughing about the incident at the café. After the reporters turned on me, Yami and Raphael decided that it was time to leave. Surprisingly, it was Raphael who first came to my aid, screaming at the woman who'd thrust her recorder in my face.

Before the pictures…

Pictures…

They can't publish those pictures. They can't. He'll find us.

No, just me. Mokuba is safe. He'll never get to Mokuba.

Unbidden memories of constantly being taken by him overwhelm me. It's been almost four years since the last time, but I remember everything as if we'd only run away yesterday. The pain, the shame, the desire to end it all…

If he finds me, I'm not old enough to keep him away. And I can't go back to the streets. I'd have to go back with him. And then he'd be able to…to…

I can't go back! I can't!

"Seto!" Yami's voice calls me back to the reality of the car ride.

I look up from where I've sequestered myself on the floor behind Yami's seat, and into the other's wide, worried eyes.

"Seto…"

"I-I'm fine," I assert, climbing back into my seat.

I feel Yami's concerned eyes on me as I stare out the car window, but he doesn't say anything.

As soon as we get back to the house, I lock myself in my room, my assigned room. I just need some time alone. Some time to plan what to do if…

I'm on the bed wrapped around a pillow when Yami knocks on the bedroom door.

"Seto, are you all right?" he calls.

I really don't want to talk to him.

"Seto!" he calls again, rattling the locked doorknob. "Open the door so we can talk."

Reluctantly, I let go of the pillow and open the door, returning to my original position. Yami sits down behind me.

"Are you alright?" he intones, a hand briefly touching my back in a comforting gesture.

"Fine. Just tired," I mumble into the pillow, hoping he'll let it go, but knowing he won't.

"I'm sorry about what happened at the café. They've been doing that to us every summer for the last few years so we're used to it, but I guess it was a bit overwhelming for you," Yami continues in a soothing tone.

I laugh to myself. He thinks I care about annoying people asking me questions. Their questions aren't what can hurt me.

"The brown haired woman is Fuyumi Yamata. She works for the society columnist of the local paper. She's actually quite nice and makes a very good ramen," Yami explains.

He goes on to tell me that the black-haired woman, Aki Nakamura, works for a local tabloid, and the blonde, Shungiko Soryo, runs her own celebrity web site and is honestly as scary as she seems.

Surprisingly, his random conversation calms me, gives me something else to focus on other than the likelihood of being found.

"Thank you," I mumble over my shoulder.

"Anytime, Seto! That's what friends are for!"

Friend; it's a novel concept, his being my friend and not my captor. My friend, not my Master. My friend…

His hand brushes lightly down my arm before he gets up from the bed.

"I'll make you some pastries to help you feel better." He smiles as he leaves my room.

My room. I've tried to deny it for months, but as I look around, I realize that it is no longer an assigned room. All of the books, clothes, even the music in the CD player that Yami bought me are all my personal possessions now. Yami even let me pick out the sheets and curtains. The only things in here are things that I _want _in here. So, this _is_ my room.

And maybe that's all right.

If my choice is to go back with _him_ or stay here, then this will be my room and my home.

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"No," I repeat to his entireties to accompany him and Raphael for lunch and shopping.

"Seto, you haven't left the house in almost a month." Yami frowns at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie easily. "I just want to stay home."

"Seto…"

I turn away and head up to my room.

I won't leave the house anymore. I can't anyway.

The web site published two clear pictures of us from her phone the next day with hints about "the location of our love nest." The society column posted their story the day after that, including a shot of us after I'd put my hand up and innuendo about me in relation to Yami and Raphael.

Included with the head shots of all three of us published by the tabloid a week later were more hints and innuendos along with a picture of us driving away in the car and a shot of the front of Yami's house from before he took me in.

Now it's only a matter of time before he comes for me. I'll stay here and wait in my home, in my room, with my things. I hope that I'll at least get to say good-bye.

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I step into the living room, intending to watch TV with Yami after I've finished the dishes from dinner and see _**him**_.

_"Also in today's news…"_

He's on the TV. Shaking hands. Presenting a check. Surrounded by children.

Smiling.

_"The CEO of Kaiba Corp., Gozaboro Kaiba, pictured here at the Domino City Orphanage, held a press conference early this afternoon."_

I can't breathe.

"_Mr. Kaiba's generous donation of 1,000,000 yen to the Domino City Orphanage will allow them to renovate and expand, giving more children who desperately need one, a home."_

"Seto! Seto, are you alright?" Yami prods, helping me up from the floor. When did I fall down?

And then I hear _**his**_ voice. I look up to see him talking about the orphanage and the children. He's talking about helping the children at the Domino City Orphanage.

But the only thing he wants to do with children is…

Mokuba!

He's found us! He has Mokuba! I just left him there for a few weeks until I got a better job! Just a few weeks! And now he has him!

"Seto? Seto!" Yami's hands on my arms remind me. If I'm with Yami…

"He's safe," I affirm to myself, fighting unsuccessfully to keep the memories at bay.

"Seto, you're shaking. What's wrong?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I scream at the TV. I don't want to hear his voice anymore! Not ever! "You can't have him! Mokuba is safe! You can't touch him! Shut up!"

"Seto!" Yami's firm shake and yell again remind me where I am.

"He can't touch him," I whisper clutching Yami's arms. "Mokuba's safe. He's safe."

I don't fight Yami helping me to the couch to lie down. I vaguely notice the TV being switched off and the light blanket from the closet that he places over me.

"It's alright, Seto," Yami assures, hand stroking my hair.

I like Yami's hand on my hair. It reminds me of stroking Mokuba's hair before he left with the Ishtars.

I miss Mokuba so much.

Yami's hand is soothing. I close my eyes and allow his fingers sliding through my hair to usher me into a comfortable sleep.

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It's been a while since I've been able to sneak into Mokuba's room and read to him. I pull a book from his shelf and sit down on the bed beside him as he snuggles under his covers.

It's one I've read many times before because it's one of his favorites. The story centers on the adventures of two brothers: a warrior and a magician.

I start to read the part where the warrior brother defeats the overlord and saves his little brother yet again as I have countless times, but the words are different. As I continue to read, I notice that the story is actually different from before. The warrior is defeated by the Overlord and has to watch helplessly as his little brother is dragged away screaming his name.

Frowning in confusion, I look at Mokuba to explain that I don't know what happened to the book, when the sound of his bedroom door slamming open startles us both.

A dark cloud hovers over Mokuba, before seemingly reaching to drag him away. I try to fight it off, but find myself powerless against the suddenly solid menace. Reeling from an open-handed blow to the side of my head, I look up from the floor to see Gozaboro sneering at me.

"It's for the children, Seto," he laughs darkly.

"Seto! Seto, help me!" Mokuba screams as he's dragged out the bedroom door.

I awaken to the sound of my own scream echoing in my ears and a frantic Yami holding me down on the couch. I pull away, not needing his sympathy just now, but he doesn't move from his place kneeling on the floor beside me.

When he doesn't speak for a long time, I figure that he's decided to leave me alone.

"Who is Mokuba? And why are you so afraid of Gozaboro Kaiba? " His clear voice inquires calmly.

I guess he's not going to leave me alone after all.

"Seto?"

"What business is it of yours?" I mumble, pulling the blanket over my head and further turning away from him.

"I'm your friend, Seto. I'm just trying to help," he asserts.

I don't respond. And he doesn't go away. Instead, he starts lightly running a hand down my covered arm a few minutes later.

"Just go away, Yami," I snarl.

"I won't," he replies as calmly as ever.

What does he expect me to do? Just tell him everything? Why should I? Gozaboro is sure to find me now that those pictures have hit the paper. That's why he's here in Domino! To take us back! But he'll have to settle for just me. No matter what, I won't tell that bastard about Mokuba's new family. Even if I have to...

And I know that bastard will want to, if only to punish me for running.

So why should I tell Yami anything? It's not as though he can do anything about it!

I lie there for a while longer, but try as I might, I can't ignore Yami's hand on my arm and the concern flowing from him. Maybe it would be nice to have someone know the truth before I disappear, probably for good. And Yami says he's my friend. Maybe...

"He's my brother," I whisper, still not sure why I'm telling him anything.

"What?" Yami's hand pauses in mid-stroke up my arm.

"Mokuba," I clarify. "He's my little brother. He was adopted by a good family and they moved to Egypt."

Silence for a moment, then, "And Gozoboro Kaiba?"

"My step-father," I laugh bitterly. "And Mokuba's real father. We-we ran away."

"Why?" he asks quietly, though I suspect by his tone he's already figured it out. No need to sugarcoat it then.

"He started…touching…me when I was nine," I confess to the first person since Mr. Motou.

At his sharp intake of breath, I wonder if I should have taken that secret to my grave.

"And Mokuba?" he croaks a few moments later.

"Just a few times. We ran before it got bad," I disclose.

Ha! "Before it got bad." As if having the father you adore rape you five times isn't "bad."

Yami's quiet for a long time after that and I figure that it's too much for him to handle. So much for having a friend…

"Do you know where Mokuba is?" he surprises me by asking.

"Egypt, I think. I haven't had any contact with him for two years." All of my secrets are just tumbling out of me now.

"You miss him." It's not a question, but I answer just the same.

"Yes, very much."

I don't know how it happens, but soon after that final statement, I find myself sitting at the kitchen table with Yami telling him everything. About the abuse, running away, losing Mokuba at the orphanage, living on the streets…

He listens intently, plying me with tea and pastries the entire time. Though I think he only made the pastries to calm himself down rather than "to help me feel better" as he supposes.

"I think you should try to find Mokuba," he levels at me once we're heading to bed for some much-needed rest. "I'll help you."

The thought of at least talking to Mokuba before Gozaboro takes me away is too appealing to ignore.

"O-okay," I stutter as he bids me goodnight and heads to his room.

**A/N: **

Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. As I am working on Chapter 8 right now, I hope to have it out relatively soon.

snugs and kisses to Nenya, Dragonwrangler and Bnomiko for letting me bounce stuff off of them for this chapter and for this overall story.

And an extra glompatckle to Bnomiko for beta-ing this chapter.


	8. Mementos

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**Mementos**

With my stepfather actually here in Domino, it's only a matter of time before he finds me and takes me back. Resigned to my fate, I allow Yami to fawn over me more than usual because I want to keep as many memories of him as possible. He's constantly making me pastries, as though the sugar content will make me forget that my time here is short. Because he means well and because I wish I could forget, I don't mind his indulgences.

Raphael came by the day after my confessions and I thought Yami would tell him everything about me, or at least my real name. But he didn't. And from the way that Raphael continues to treat me like a threat a week later, he still hasn't.

I wonder what it will be like, being back at Kaiba Manor again after all this time. Will I even make it that far? Maybe he'll just dispose of me along the way. No, he'll want to punish me first. And he'll probably try to make me tell him where Mokuba's located; not that anything he could do would get me to reveal that information.

Maybe I won't go back at all. I could run again. Or...or...

I shake my head, trying to clear it of that last thought. I don't want to die.

"Seto?" Yami knocking on my bedroom door distracts me from my morbid thoughts. "Raphael's here. It's time to go."

This afternoon's jaunt is another one of Yami's treats for me. After a late lunch with Raphael at a small shop in the area, we're going out to a department store nearby because he insists on buying me some new clothes. Despite my protests that it would be a waste of time and money to get me anything new, Yami has made up his mind and won't be swayed.

Allowing myself to be pulled from concerns of capture, I follow them out of the house, squinting in the late afternoon sun that I've hidden from for weeks.

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With my latest acquisition of clothes, Yami decides to give away all the things that are a little too small for me. I help him put them in a box for charity, thinking all the while that I should probably keep them. After all, once I'm back under Gozaboro's roof I certainly won't be eating Raphael's well-prepared meals and Yami's decadent pastries that have allowed me to fill out over the past few months.

I'll really miss Yami's pastries.

I'll really miss Yami.

Looking up from the latest confectionary goodie in front of me, I study Yami's face as he talks briefly about a new pastry he introduced at the hotel. I want to remember him just like this: open, happy, excited about his work. I savor each moment in his presence now, memorizing his face and mannerisms, knowing that I'll soon never see them again. I want to cherish the feeling of having Yami as my friend.

As well as the other feelings being with him have awakened in me recently…

A few weeks ago, I started noticing a warm sensation all over my body every time I interact with Yami; sometimes when I think about him too.

"You're staring at me again, Seto," Yami observes for the third time today.

I look away, not having any explanation to offer him. Or myself. Especially after what happened yesterday.

Around 5:30 pm yesterday evening, Yami had been in the hall closet, reaching from the top of the stepladder for something on the very back of the top shelf. I was coming out of my room to go down and start dinner when I saw him miss the second step in his descent and begin to tumble backward. I caught him and staggered back into a nearby wall before stumbling to the floor, Yami landing on top of me.

My body grows warm as I remember wanting to lie there beneath him a little longer than the few moments afforded me.

Hastily excusing myself from the dinner table, I close myself in my room to try and figure this out. Flopping back on my bed, I stare at the ceiling, hoping some sort of sense will come with that act. It doesn't work.

Or maybe I don't want it to work. Maybe I don't want to know what's going on and why I feel...whatever it is I feel for Yami.

And I do feel something.

Is it more than just friendship? And would I know if it was?

If I didn't think he'd kill me for even suggesting that I may feel some attraction to Yami, I'd talk to Raphael about this...this...I don't know what it is.

I close my eyes and re-live the sensation of Yami's warm body atop mine. Wrapping my arms around myself, I imagine that I'm holding Yami against me. A stirring that I've never known sends my hands moving of their own accord over my body.

As my fingers brush across my thigh, I remember my encounter with the man who'd tried to excite me while I paid him for a meal and a night on his couch. Mimicking his movements and touches while keeping the memory of Yami's body on top of mine, the stirring begins to get stronger.

Slipping my hand inside my suddenly too tight pants, I'm more than a little surprised to find myself fully aroused. Is this because I was thinking about Yami? Do I really want to be with him like that? To have him touch me like that other did? To have him take me?

The stirring reaches its peak at the images that thought brings and I find my first voluntary release shaking my whole body.

I open my eyes and study the plain, white ceiling again, panting heavily.

I want him. I want him to hold me. And touch me.

And take me.

But how could I feel that way about my friend? Am I so used to being a sex slave that I don't know how to have a friend?

Not that it matters since I'm sure Yami could never see me as more than some damaged kid.

Though it would be nice if he could...

Deciding that it's pointless to dwell on the impossible, I shed my soiled underwear and jeans, take a shower and go to bed.

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"Wow! Look at that!" Yami exclaims about something on the TV as we eat dinner.

"That looks like the front gates to your complex, Yami," Raphael notes, picking up the nearby remote and turning on the sound.

"_Police say that the driver of the SUV, a Mr. Hokuto Nakamura, was traveling at approximately 104 kilometers per hour when he struck the limousine as they were both turning into the complex. Mr. Nakamura had apparently being drinking heavily earlier this evening before this unfortunate turn of events._

"That is my complex!" Yami confirms in surprise.

"Well, it's certain that no one made it out alive," Raphael asserts.

Looking at the smashed remains of what used to be a white SUV and the black limo wrapped around it, I have to agree. Especially since both vehicles are also upside-down on top of the fragmented brick garden wall of the house on the corner. Littering the street just inside the complex gates are myriad pieces of the two wrecks.

_Information on the occupants of the limousine is being withheld pending notification of family members,"_ the reporter further explains.

"_In other news..."_

"I'm surprised it took him this long to kill someone," Raphael asserts, muting the rest of the broadcast while we eat. "That guy's been a menace for years. It's too bad he couldn't have just killed himself. I hope his family's got deep pockets."

"His wife must be devastated," Yami sighs into his chicken lo-mein.

"She's probably relieved," Raphael murmurs.

"That's an awful think to say!" Yami admonishes. "Though on some level, you're probably right."

I stay silent through their banter, thoroughly enjoying my meal, as it has been more than a week since Raphael's cooked for us. Even something so simple is a pleasant departure from Yami's instant ramen and my mediocre efforts to feed us. I help myself to seconds from the large wok on the stove and return to my seat.

At the abrupt halt in their conversation, I look up from putting a piece of chicken in my mouth to find Raphael frowning worriedly at me.

"Yami," he begins sternly. "Are you feeding that kid? He's inhaling his food like it's the last meal he'll ever have."

I completely miss Yami's reply, so stunned that Raphael showed any hint of concern for me.

My time here must really be short.

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"Here," Yami prompts, handing me a folded piece of paper.

I take it, eying him cautiously.

"What's this?"

"Open it," he smiles.

I unfold the small sheet slowly, frowning in confusion until I see what he's written.

_Ishtar_ and a phone number, complete with country code.

"Yami..." I whisper incredulously.

"I don't know much about hacking into computer systems or searching the Internet, but I do have lots of people willing to help me out for a few pastries," he grins.

"How...?"

"I thought if we called them all, one of them was bound to be the Ishtars you were looking for," he offers by way of explanation

"You...I don't know how to thank you for this, Yami."

"I think you just did," Yami beams. "And since that's all settled, there is a phone in your room, you know."

I blink at him and he laughs at what must be a completely shocked look on my face, and for the first time in my life, I feel a blush warming my cheeks. Suddenly very uncomfortable in Yami's presence, I retreat to my room.

Though eager for the chance to talk to Mokuba for the first time in almost two years, I find myself staring at the phone instead, worried about contacting him after so long.

What did he think when I stopped writing? And when his letters came back? Maybe he thinks I've died since I told him nothing short of death would stop me from keeping in touch with him. And if he thinks I've died and has mourned me, what will it do to him to hear my voice again?

What if he thinks I stopped writing on purpose? What if he thinks I didn't care?

What if he hates me?

I shake my head at that ridiculous thought; Mokuba would never hate me.

Still, what would be the point in contacting him now? Soon I'll be back with Gozaboro and Mokuba will never see or hear from me again anyway.

Crushing the number in my palm, I toss it into the small, plastic trashcan by my bed. I appreciate what Yami has done, but it's been too long. I shouldn't burden him with my presence in his life again. Not now. It's best that he doesn't know what's happened to me these last few years; best that he not worry about what will happen when Gozaboro finds me.

Mokuba's safe and happy now. I'll just leave it at that.

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The phone ringing startles me awake.

Turning my bleary gaze to the red numbers glaring at me in my darkened room, I realize that it's only a little after 11:00 pm. I'd decided to go to bed early as it's Yami's night to stay at the hotel. On most days, I'd still be up after having watched some random TV show with him, usually some sappy drama, and we'd now be watching the news.

"Hello?" I yawn.

"Seto!" Yami calls urgently on the other line. "Turn on the news!"

"I'm in bed, Yami," I protest.

"Hurry! You're going to miss it!" he presses.

Groaning, I blindly reach for the remote to the smallish TV that Yami moved from the kitchen into my room last week. Finding it after fumbling around for a bit, I click it on and turn to the station that we usually watch…only to nearly fall out of the bed in shock. On the screen behind the talking anchorwoman is a picture of Gozaboro and what look to be birth and death years.

Several moments pass as I stare at the screen before I actually hear what the reporter is saying.

"..._family elected to have a private funeral service. _

"_Kaiba Corporation issued a statement last week that the Board of Directors will formally take over operation of the weapons manufacturing giant at the beginning of next month. No word on how that decision will affect Gozaboro's two sons who have been studying abroad for the past five years. _

"_The famous CEO died last week in a horrific car accident outside of a quiet suburb of Domino City, a victim of a drunk driver. Speculation abounds regarding Mr. Kaiba's reason for being in that particular neighborhood. Several rival corporations suggest that the CEO was there for a secret business meeting with plans to corner the market on the SM-3 interceptor system, a joint development with the United States._

"_The Kaiba Corporation Board of Directors has declined to comment on the matter._

"_In other news..."_

I turn off the TV, dropping the remote to the floor.

Dead.

He's dead.

"Seto!" I hear Yami's exclamation as if from far away and realize that I must have dropped the phone on the floor earlier. "Seto, are you there?"

Ignoring Yami's insistent voice, I roll over and huddle beneath the covers.

I want it to be true so much, but...

I know why he was in this neighborhood; he was coming to take me back. I'd been expecting it, planned for it, but knowing that he'd really almost gotten me...

No, he could have faked it. He could still be out there. And as soon as I let my guard down and start to think that I'm safe…

Still, if it was on the news...

Closing my eyes, I burrow deeper under my covers. In the blackness behind my eyelids, I see the combined wreck of the SUV and limo from that night and know for certain that Raphael was right; no one got out alive.

He's really dead. He can't hurt me, or Mokuba anymore.

So why am I not happier about that?


	9. Turn

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks

_Heartfelt *snugs* to my fabulous betas: Bahen, DW, Miko and Nenya. You are all hugely wonderful for your encouragement and support and I am heartily grateful._

**Turn**

"Have you spoken to Mokuba?" Yami asks casually over breakfast.

His question catches me by surprise. I'd expected him to ask about Gozaboro's death, not Mokuba.

He came home that night after the news to make sure that I was okay, but I wouldn't let him in my room. After an hour of coaxing, he apologized for having to leave me and went back to the hotel. Though he'd called several times the next day, I didn't pick up the phone, just listened to his messages afterward. He came home again last night after I was asleep.

"What?" I murmur around my glass as I lift it to take a drink of water.

"I asked if you'd talked to Mokuba," he repeats. "I'm certain that your stepfather's death is international news."

Swallowing thickly, I look down at my plate.

He's right. Gozaboro was too well known a businessman, and Kaiba Corp. is too large a company for the news of his death not to spread throughout the world.

"No," I confess quietly. I hadn't wanted to intrude on Mokuba's life before that bastard's death, and now...

No, it's best that Mokuba sever all ties with both of us. It's not as though I have anything to offer him anyway. Everything I own, Yami bought. I can't take him out for dinner like I used to when he lived at the orphanage because I don't have a job. I can't even give him a place to live because I don't have that either!

Upset by my train of thought, I scramble from the table and up to my room.

No, it's my assigned room. I own nothing. Not even myself. Whatever I feel for Yami, whether I think of him as my friend or not, eventually I'll still have to pay him back for all of his kindness.

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Though his house isn't so large that I should be able to, I somehow manage to avoid Yami for the next few days. I suspect that he's giving me some space, which I admit enables me to get a loose handle on things.

Gozaboro is honestly dead. The topic has been at the forefront of the news for several days, reporters continuing to speculate on his reason for being in Yami's neighborhood when he died.

I've been absorbing it all in fascinated horror. I don't know why I care so much or why I can't let go of it. Everyday I sit in my assigned room watching the news, reading the newspaper articles and looking up related stories online using an old laptop Yami gave me. I'd like to say that I have only noble reasons for not calling Mokuba, but the truth is that I've been far too wrapped up in this morbid past time.

I do miss Mokuba. But as much as I want to talk to him, I don't think he needs to hear from me anymore. And now with Gozaboro gone, he won't have to worry about ever going back to that hell. All my presence can do is remind him about Gozaboro. I just want him to stay as happy as he was when I last saw him, so I'll let him grieve for me and heal from Gozaboro. That would be best.

Sure of my decision, I go back to trolling for information.

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I stop evading Yami after about a week. It's not like I could have kept it up forever anyway, and I admit that I'm starting to miss his fawning over me.

We slip back into the routine of eating our meals together, taking care of his house and garden, and watching TV in his living room most evenings; though Yami's penchant for making me pastries almost seems to double. I suppose he's hoping the sugar will help me to deal with Gozaboro's death better. It doesn't, but I don't mind the indulgence.

"Seto," Yami begins, sitting beside me on the couch one Tuesday night while we watch one of his sappy dramas, "do you consider me your friend?"

"Yes," I frown at him. "Why do you ask?"

"So if I do something for you as a friend," he continues, "you would be okay with that?"

I hesitate at the odd question, quickly coming to one conclusion.

"You called him," I murmur numbly. "You called Mokuba and told him about..."

"Seto – " he initiates, laying a hand lightly on my arm.

Feeling hurt and betrayed, I pull away.

"You had no right, Yami," I admonish, purposely not looking at him. "I didn't want him to know that I...I didn't want him to think of me as..."

I can't even say it. I wanted Mokuba to remain untouched by my misery. I've never even told him about how bad it was with Gozaboro! And for Yami to randomly spill all of that...

"Seto, listen. It's not as bad as you think..." he inserts into my distraught thoughts.

I glare at him, tears of shame and fury prickling my eyes. He can't fix this with kind words and pastries.

"I hate you, Yami," I spit, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. "Never come near me again."

Purposefully, I head up to my assigned room, the pain of losing Yami's friendship and whatever else we could have had weighing me down. I can't stay here anymore. I shouldn't have stayed this long.

I shouldn't have trusted Yami with my secret.

I shouldn't have trusted him at all!

As I start packing some things into the same suitcase I came to Yami's place with, which I also don't own, I realize that I have nowhere to go. I can't go back to the streets. I can't go back to Gozoboro. Yami is the only friend I've ever had…

"Seto, listen to me..." Yami ventures from the doorway.

"I told you never to come near me again, Yami," I snarl, refusing to turn and face him.

"Seto, you can't leave," he persists.

"Why? Because you think I have nowhere to go? Well, I'll figure something out, and I can stay in a shelter until then! So don't think you need to keep me here to 'save me from the streets'!" I yell before abruptly remembering that I'm banned from all of the shelters in Domino.

I shudder in realization that I'll have no choice but to go back to the streets...

"You can't leave because Mokuba and the Ishtars will be here Friday evening," Yami reveals.

It's as though he physically strikes me with those words.

Oh. Kami. Mokuba's coming here...?

"N-no...I can't see him, Yami. I can't face him. Not now that he knows...you have to tell them not to come," I plead, sinking down on the bed and turning to him.

"I can't, Seto. Not if I'm truly your friend. You need to see Mokuba to know that he's all right, and he needs to see you to know the same. And you both need each other to deal with Gozaboro's death"

"No. He'll be angry with me for not writing. He'll be disgusted by me for...for what I had to do to survive," I stammer.

"I promise you that all he'll care about is that you're alive and living well," Yami assures.

"You're wrong, Yami," I whisper, shaking with the thought of seeing Mokuba's disgusted face. "And I hate you even more for forcing me to talk to him about what happened to me."

"The only thing you'll have to explain," he begins confidently, "is how you got mugged when you were moving and lost all of his pictures and the Ishtars' address. Then you can add how your best friend Yami and several of his co-workers started from scratch by calling all of the Ishtars in Egypt until he found them."

"You...Yami..." my throat closes at the realization of what he's done for me.

"That's all you have to say? What about, 'thank you for being such a great friend, Yami'?" he teases lightly.

"Thank you," I murmur gratefully, still struck by his further acts of kindness.

"I can't wait to see you and Mokuba together," he grins before heading back downstairs.

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By Friday afternoon I'm a nervous wreck.

"Yami!" I call frantically as he whips up some confectionary delight in the kitchen.

"Hmm?" he looks up at me distractedly.

"What do I tell Mokuba when he asks why you called and not me?"

"Tell him the truth," he replies calmly, tasting his batter before sprinkling more of some spice into it.

"The truth?" I balk.

"Yes. Tell him you were afraid that he wouldn't want to talk to you, that he'd think you'd died and you didn't want to open a wound of mourning, and that you were afraid he'd think you'd abandoned him and would hate you."

"H-how did you...?" I stutter incredulously. Those were almost my exact thoughts the night that I threw the number away.

"Because I really am your best friend, Seto," he smiles.

I nod contentedly, losing much of my tension about the evening.

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Once, while I was homeless, I snuck into a movie theatre to stay warm. I didn't really care what the movie was, though it turned out to be some sappy love story that Yami would probably have loved. Most of it made me gag, but the male lead said something that stuck with me.

"_The most important moments in our lives always seem to move in slow motion."_

When Yami opens the door and I see my little brother standing there, I swear time slows to a crawl.

He's grown quite a bit taller and now reaches my shoulders. His wild, black mane has been tamed into a long ponytail at the base of his neck; a quivering smile adorns his face.

I quickly crush him in my arms.

Moments later he's sobbing against me and I'm clinging to him like he's my lifeline. Eventually, Yami leads us all into the living room, where he serves the rest of the Ishtars an excellent selection of his delicious pastries and green tea. While they eat and sip their tea, bantering about the differences between Japan and Egypt, Mokuba and I just cling to each other, not participating at all.

The twins enjoy the treats almost as much as Mrs. Ishtar, who, it turns out, has the real sweet tooth in the family. Semi-jokingly, she begs Yami for more pastries once they're all gone. After their treat and some juice, the twins run over to watch TV, Yami handing them the remote to his 32" console once they've settled themselves on the floor. Mokuba stays nestled in my arms on the loveseat.

After the twins are settled, the Ishtars try to include us in their renewed conversation, ignoring my monosyllabic responses and Mokuba's silence. Their continued efforts are shortly halted by Yami's deft manipulation of the subjects they're discussing. I offer Yami a grateful smile, quickly hidden when Mrs. Ishtar glances my way.

As I listen with half an ear to Mr. and Mrs. Ishtar's quiet conversation with Yami, I catch snatches of my name with Mokuba's and a few instances of Gozaboro's. Tuning in fully, I soon realize that they are discussing that bastard's death. Not wanting the mention of that man to mar this perfect reunion with my brother, I interject with a request to have Mokuba stay the night.

"Since we haven't seen each other in such a long time," I insert.

"Of course, Seto," Mrs. Ishtar replies soberly. "I'm certain that you have a lot of things to catch up on."

"Yes," I nuzzle into my little brother's hair.

It's not too much later that they start to wind down their visit, inviting me and Yami out to dinner tomorrow night before they stand to leave. Yami politely declines the invitation, citing work, and then surprises them with a 'goodie bag' to take back to the hotel. Mrs. Ishtar thanks Yami profusely, and then hugs Mokuba and I goodnight. After Mr. Ishtar follows up with his own hugs for us, he calls the twins over to do the same. I smile to myself at Mokuba's genuine delight about hugging his family.

I'm surprised that Yami's slightly stiff politeness matches my own in response to their hugs. I've never liked being touched by anyone other than my mom or Mokuba, and now Yami, but I've always thought of Yami as more 'touchy-feely.' As Yami sees the Ishtars to the door in my and Mokuba's stead, I belatedly realize that, until tonight, I've never seen him allow anyone near him except me and Raphael.

After they're gone, Yami, Mokuba and I sit together on the couch watching TV until Mokuba falls asleep. Despite his newfound height, I can still easily carry my little brother up the stairs. As Yami only has two bedrooms, I put Mokuba in my bed after dressing him in a borrowed pair of Yami's pajamas.

I sit on the edge of my bed, holding Mokuba's hand and watching him sleep, warmed by the small smile on his face.

"Are you alright?" Yami calls softly from the doorway.

I can't help smiling as I look up to answer.

"I'm head and shoulders above all right, Yami," I whisper, not wanting to wake Mokuba.

"Good," he smiles.

"Yami, would it be alright if Mokuba stays here for a few days?" I request.

"He can stay here as long as you need him to, Seto," he beams.

"How can I ever repay you for all of this?"

"Did you know that my co-workers thought I was crazy to take you in?" he replies quietly, seemingly changing the subject.

"I did too," I murmur.

"Do you know why I did it?"

I shake my head.

"Because now I have someone who can reach all the top shelves in my house and at the grocery store," he grins mischievously before heading back downstairs.

Deciding to leave him that secret for now, I don my own pajamas and climb into bed beside Mokuba.

Mr. Ishtar calls the next morning before the whole family arrives around 11:00 am with clothes and toiletries for Mokuba and an offer for me to spend the day with them. Eagerly I take the chance to be a part of Mokuba's family for a little while and we clamor into the SUV they've rented for the duration of their visit.

After starting out at a nearby mall to pick up a few things, we eventually make our way to an outdoor market near the pier. We wander along leisurely, though Mrs. Ishtar spends more time trying to keep the twins in line than actually shopping. Mokuba helps her sometimes, but mostly he stays by my side. After the market, we wind up in the very park where I spent many, many cold nights. I'm startled at first, once I realize where we are, but quickly hide my shock. It takes me a few moments longer to hide my fears of eventually winding up back here.

"Seto?" Mokuba's worried voice inquires as he clutches my hand. "Are you alright?"

Hn. I guess I wasn't fast enough.

"I'm fine, Mokuba," I smile lightly.

The tight squeeze of his hand in mine says that he doesn't believe me. I ignore it and move to catch up to the rest of his family.

After the park, Mr. Ishtar drives us around aimlessly as they try to decide where to go for dinner. Since Yami has to work and can't join us, and Mrs. Ishtar is crazy about his pastries, I suggest that we eat at the restaurant where Yami works.

"That's a great idea, Seto," she smiles, her reason for agreeing obvious by the excited sparkle in her eyes.

We arrive at Yami's restaurant at around 7:00 pm. By 7:45 pm Yami has already supplied Mrs. Ishtar with a small assortment of goodies and arranged for the Ishtars to stay in a suite at the hotel, free of charge, for the remainder of their stay in Domino.

In between the 'parents' profuse thanks to Yami for his generosity, I can only think of one thing that I want.

"Would it be alright for Mokuba to stay with me instead of at the hotel?" I implore once Yami has gone back into the kitchen.

They don't answer me for a moment, looking at each other hesitantly as if in reassurance of something.

"Please?" Mokuba pleads when they seem to falter, adding a look that I'm sure has melted their resolve countless times in the past.

"I don't see why not," Mr. Ishtar replies amiably. "When we go check out of the other hotel after dinner, we'll drop Mokuba off with you when we take you home."

"Thank you," I whisper, grateful to be allowed more time with my brother.

By the time we're done eating, the twins are nearly asleep, so I help Mr. Ishtar carry them back to the SUV and buckle them in before we head to their current hotel.

Their goodnight to Mokuba after dropping his suitcase inside Yami's front door is unexpectedly hard for me to watch; the way the Ishtars smile at him and the way they all hug each other tightly tells me how much my brother is loved. I swallow down my feelings of discomfort as Mokuba waves to them before they drive away.


	10. Dust

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**Dust**

"Is he really dead, Seto? It's not some trick to get us to relax?" Mokuba asks as we sit comfortably on the couch.

These last few days with Mokuba have been spent catching up on each other's lives. He's told me about Egypt, living with the Ishtars, learning to speak Arabic, school, the new friends he's made...I used the mention of new friends to tell him about Yami, though I didn't mention anything about my life on the streets.

So when Mokuba brings up his father's death out of the blue, I'm not really surprised, though it strikes me that I'd wondered the exact same thing a few weeks earlier. I hold him close, reassuring him that Gozaboro can't hurt him anymore.

"He can't hurt you anymore either, Seto," he declares.

"W-what do you mean, Mokuba?" I stammer, hoping that he's not talking about...No, he couldn't be talking about that.

"Mokuba?" I prod when he falls silent and turns away from me.

"I knew," he confesses in a whisper. "I found out from one of the maids why you'd been so sick and didn't come to see me for such a long time."

I stare at him in shock.

"I blamed you," he continues quietly. "After he started...after he left you and...and..."

I turn away from him, a blockage in my throat hampering my breathing.

He knew. Mokuba knew that...

And he blamed me for...

Did he always blame me? Even after I got him out of there, did he still blame me? Is that why...why he left me? Why he went with the Ishtars? He knew that I would be back for him, but he left with them anyway. He didn't even say good-bye.

"Is that why you went with the Ishtars?" I choke. "Did you hate me so much that you'd choose to be with strangers rather than stay with me?"

I'm nearly knocked from the couch when he throws himself in my arms.

"Never, Seto! I've never hated you! Never!" he exclaims.

I hold him tightly, my heart aching.

"I should have paid more attention. I should have known what he was doing. I'm so sorry, Mokuba," I mumble into his hair.

"I don't blame you anymore, Seto," he confesses, lifting some of the weight from my heart. "And even when I did, I never hated you! I just wanted to have a real family and be happy. That's why I went with the Ishtars. But you're my big brother and I love you. I could never hate you."

I hold him tighter.

"I'm sorry, Seto. I didn't mean to hurt you. I've missed you so much," he whispers tearfully.

"I've missed you too, Mokuba," I murmur, my tears joining his.

When Yami gets in nearly two hours later, we're still on the couch, talking about what Gozaboro did to us. Not wanting to share our pain with Yami just then, I take Mokuba up to my room where we continue to talk and sometimes cry until the delicious smell of Yami's pastries come wafting up the stairs.

"That smells really good, Seto," Mokuba sniffs deeply. "Is he making that for a special party?"

"No, he's making that for us," I explain.

"Really?" Mokuba's teary eyes get big at the prospect of that wonderful smell being associated with something for him to eat.

"Yeah. It's how he shows he's worried. C'mon, let's clean up a little and see what he's fixed," I smile lightly, steering him toward the bathroom.

After wiping our faces, we head downstairs to enjoy Yami's confectionary delights.

Four days later, I'm surprised that neither my brother's head, nor mine, have exploded from the sugar overload.

"I promise that we're okay, Yami," I assure him again as he whips up something new for us to eat after dinner.

"That's not why I'm making these," he bluffs. "Raph's coming to cook for us tonight and I thought I'd make something special since it will be his first time meeting Mokuba."

"Of course," I smirk. "I'll just let you get back to that."

Leaving the kitchen, I frown in concern. Raphael isn't very happy about me being here with Yami. How is he going to react to my brother's presence?

I hear the front door open a second too late to get to Mokuba who's sitting in the front room.

"Hi! I'm Mokuba!" he greets cheerfully as Raphael stares at him wide-eyed. "I guess you must be a friend of Yami's too, since you have a key."

"Who..." Raphael trails off.

"He's my little brother," I supply, standing behind Mokuba protectively.

Raphael's eyes get even wider before he scowls and heads for the kitchen.

"Is he mad at you, Seto?" Mokuba tilts his head back to ask.

"He's...not happy that I live here," I reply, knowing that it's a bit of an understatement. I just hope they don't start fighting while Mokuba's here. His visit here has been traumatic enough with everything that we've talked about over the last few days. He doesn't need to worry about my living situation.

Thankfully, though dinner is a little tense, Raphael keeps things civil. And after Mokuba has happily dug into the delicious pastries, he heads up to my room for bed. I follow him a few moments later.

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We come back from a late afternoon walk around the neighborhood to find Yami on the phone.

"Oh, they just walked in!" he exclaims. "Mokuba, it's your parents."

"Hello? Oh, hi, Mom!" Mokuba beams, taking the cordless phone and heading into the living room.

'Mom'? He calls her... But she's not our...

"Seto? Are you alright?" Yami's voice cuts into the swirling mental images brought on by Mokuba calling someone else, "Mom."

"I-I'm fine," I stammer, shrugging his hand from my shoulder and heading up to my room.

I shouldn't be so upset by this. Of course Mokuba would call her mom. She's really the only mom he's ever had. After all, he hasn't seen his real mother since he was three years old! He probably doesn't even remember her.

"But I do," I whisper to myself.

I remember her voice, her dark, thick hair, her blue-grey eyes, her warm hands, her soothing touch; everything!

"Even how she looked when she died," I mumble to myself, shuddering at the memory I've had buried for a long time.

"Seto!" I Mokuba calls as he comes up the stairs. "Mom wants to talk to you."

"She's not my mom," I grumble under my breath, quickly reining in my feelings of bitterness.

"Mrs. Ishtar," I greet, taking the phone from Mokuba.

"That's so formal, Seto," I hear her laugh on the other end. "You can call me "mom" too, if you'd like."

"No," I state with finality. "I can't."

"I see," she sighs on the other end. "At least tell me how you're doing."

"I'm fine," I reply sincerely, wondering about her motive for talking to me. Mokuba's frown from the bed isn't helping.

"Seto," she begins after a short pause. "Mokuba told us what you went through with Gozaboro. Please know that you can call us anytime if you need to talk about it."

"Mokuba has no idea what I went through," I snarl, resenting her prying.

"Seto!" Mokuba defends from my bed, frowning deeper at me.

"I apologize, Seto," she inserts before I can continue. "Mokuba said that he was worried about you and of course I only want what's best for Mokuba. And you too."

Not wanting to listen to her odd ramblings anymore, I give the phone to Mokuba and head back downstairs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Yami intrudes on my silent brooding at the kitchen table.

"She's not my mom," I grumble.

"Hmm, true," he nods, heading over to the microwave to heat up two cups of water for tea. Normally, he boils the water in a pot, but sometimes he doesn't want to wait that long.

Actually, given the amount of sugar that he's plied us with for the last few days, I'm surprised that he doesn't produce some confectionary treat to go with it.

"What was she like?" he prods, sitting across from me.

"Very gentle," I reply after a few moments, suddenly missing my mom more than I thought possible after all these years. "Mokuba looks a lot like her. He has her eyes, her hair coloring and texture, the shape of her face, her nose; almost nothing of him is Gozaboro."

"That's probably a relief for both of you," he smiles reassuringly, getting up to fetch our heated water. We wait for the tea to steep in silence.

As I'm lifting the tea to my lips to drink, I'm startled by a sudden revelation; I know exactly what Mokuba inherited from that bastard.

The cup slips from my nerveless fingers onto the saucer with a loud clatter, nearly burning me with the steaming liquid inside.

"Seto!" Yami yelps in concern, quickly getting a dish towel to mop up the scalding water.

"His hands," I whisper, staring at the table and shaking. "He has that bastard's hands."

I'd noticed it that first night he slept here in my bed. No, it was earlier; when he stood in Yami's front door with the Ishtars. Those same wide palms and powerful fingers of Gozaboro's are now possessed by my beloved little brother. I fight the urge to be sick all over the kitchen table as I remember the many awful things those hands did to me. Abruptly, I become aware of my own slim hands clutching at Yami's shirt as he stands with his arms around me.

I have my mothers' hands; slender palms and slim fingers that were completely useless against that bastard.

I continue to cling to Yami for several minutes, burying my face in his chest until I calm down.

"Thank you," I murmur, pulling away.

Yami lightly strokes my hair a few moments before silently retrieving my cup and saucer and wiping up the rest of the spill from the table.

"I'm sorry," I offer as he heats up more water.

His smile of understanding warms me all over.

"Seto?" my brother calls from the kitchen doorway as we silently sip our tea sometime later. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be happy if mom..." he pauses at the scowl on my face, "I mean, if you could talk to her too. I thought it would make you feel better. Talking to her made me feel better."

Standing swiftly, I fold Mokuba into my arms forcing myself not to cringe when his hands settle lovingly on my back. He's just trying to look after me and I'm worried about something that I can't change. Our mother is gone. Why should I care if he calls Mrs. Ishtar "mom" as long as he's happy? Even if I don't say anything about what happened with Gozaboro, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to at least talk to her about Mokuba.

"How about some pastries," Yami suggests, pulling out ingredients.

Mokuba laughs affirmatively. At this rate, our heads are sure to explode.

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"Please, can't I stay just a few more days," Mokuba pleads as we make our way to the gate for the Ishtar's flight home.

"Mokuba, we've already stayed longer than we'd planned. You're all already a week late for school," Mr. Ishtar explains.

"But, I need more time!" He yells. "I don't want to go yet!"

"Mokuba…" Mrs. Ishtar tries to soothe him, but he pulls away and runs back into my arms.

"Please, Seto! Tell them that you want me to stay," he entreats, tears in his eyes.

I smile lightly, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. I don't want him to leave either, but I know that it's for the best if he does. He has a full life in Egypt with this family waiting for his return. It would be selfish of me to deprive him of that any longer than I have already.

"Seto, come with me! We can be a family again!" he presses.

"Mokuba..." I don't want to refuse outright. "Maybe I could visit later," I suggest.

"Yes, that's a good idea, Seto!" Mrs. Ishtar confirms. I glance up at her smiling face, hoping that her offer in sincere, even though she's said similar things in the past.

"Mokuba," I turn his now tearful face to mine, "You need to go home now. We'll keep in touch, I promise!"

"You promised last time and I didn't hear from you for two years! I thought you were dead!" he sobs.

I hold him tight against me and let him cry. He'd revealed his feelings about my disappearance many times during his stay, and I'd apologized until I had nothing else I could say.

Eventually, the Ishtars have to pull Mokuba away from me, his sobs of not wanting to leave me overshadowing my promises to keep in touch. As the family disappears through security, I feel Yami's hand on my arm.

"Come on, Seto. Let's go home," he murmurs, steering me toward the exit.


	11. The Price

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**The Price**

I haven't slept well for more than a week. Not since the day Mokuba left.

The two weeks he stayed here flew by so fast...

I curl up tighter under my covers, hoping that sheer exhaustion will let me sleep tonight. But as soon as I close my eyes, all I can see is Mokuba's tear-stained face when we said good-bye at the airport.

I climb out of bed and get dressed before quietly slipping down the stairs and out the front door.

Lately, I've taken to walking the neighborhood when I can't sleep, the dark silence more soothing to me than lying in my oddly empty bed.

I think I miss Mokuba even more now. Maybe I should have gone with him back to Egypt, at least to visit with him for a while. But I didn't want to disrupt his schooling and...

And I didn't want to leave Yami.

I thought my feelings for Yami would lessen while Mokuba was here, but they seem to have increased. Maybe because Yami went out of his way to make sure that Mokuba and I were well taken care of and happy. He even took off the rest of Mokuba's first week here to spend time with us!

I smile in remembrance of riding around with him to some of the finest restaurants in the area and several amusement parks. The three of us had a really good time together! Raphael even came to cook for us one night, though his shock at seeing Mokuba conveyed that Yami still hadn't told him anything about me.

I think I loved him even more then.

I stop walking as that concept runs through my head...

Loved him? Do I love Yami?

I'm not sure.

Dismissing that train of thought, I continue walking the neighborhood, my circuit taking me to the front of the complex. At the sight of the still demolished wall of the neighbor's yard, my mind takes me back to the conversation I had with Mokuba about Gozaboro's death. Though fairly brief, it led to our much longer conversation about what that bastard had done to us; something we'd never actually talked about before.

We talked and cried together a lot that day.

Rounding the final corner of my trek, I'm surprised to see Yami standing in his doorway.

"At least leave a note when you're going out," he admonishes sleepily. "Besides, it's almost three o'clock in the morning. What are you doing out here? I was worried when I heard the front door close and then couldn't find you."

"I'm sorry, Yami," I apologize as I enter the house behind him, suppressing my smile at his rampant bed-head. "I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk."

"You miss him even more now, right?" he yawns, heading into the kitchen.

"Yes," I reply somberly, watching as he puts on the teapot and pulls out two mugs and our favorite green tea.

"If you're really that lonely, you could stay in my room, you know," he offers. "That way you could get at least one night of sleep. Or what's left of the night."

Sleep with Yami? In his bed? Possibly touching him?

At that thought, the quiet stirrings of my body from simply being near him come fully alive. I respectfully decline both the offer and the tea and quickly escape to my room. All thoughts of sleep are banished from my mind as my hand relieves the tension brought on by the images Yami's casual suggestion caused.

Unfortunately, when Yami catches me up watching TV around the same time the next night, he won't take "no" for an answer.

"I'm not a little kid, Yami," I protest as he pulls me along to his room. "I can sleep without a stuffed animal."

"Apparently not," he retorts, "since you're still awake from yesterday."

"Yami – "

"Sleep, Seto," he orders, pushing me down onto the mattress of his large bed.

For a moment, I wonder if this is merely a ploy for Yami to finally extract some form of payment from me, and then admonish myself for such a thought. If he'd wanted that from me, he could have demanded it long before now.

But still...

Now completely awake, I suppress the urge to run and my body's trembling as Yami helps me under the covers. He gets into the bed behind me, turning off the lamp with a yawned, "Good night" and I find myself suddenly rigid with fear.

'He's just trying to help me,' I tell myself. 'He doesn't want...he won't...'

I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart.

What if he did want something more from me? Isn't that what I've been hoping for? That he'd want to touch me? That he'd want to take me?

"Not like this," I whisper, my heartbeat speeding up even more.

Despite the comfort of Yami's mattress, I find that I can no longer lie there next to him. Slowly I climb from his bed and head toward the bedroom door. A light snore stops me at the threshold, calming me more than any words he could have ever said.

Quietly I tiptoe to look at his face, assuring myself that he's actually asleep. A snuffling and an intermittent snore accompany the slow rise and fall of his chest in the dim light of the moon peeking through his curtains. I watch him for a while, enjoying the play of moonlight across his features.

Assured by Yami's deep sleep of his honest intensions, I crawl back into the other side of the bed, drifting off almost immediately.

I awake late the next morning to an empty bed and Yami's usual note about going to work taped to his bedroom mirror.

As I take my shower, I make plans to go out and find a job. It's not right for Yami to continue to take care of me; especially if he's not going to ask for any other form of payment. I should pay at least part of my own way. Maybe there's something at Yami's hotel...

No, that's probably a bad idea. Having Raphael snarling at me on a regular basis is enough; I don't want to add any of his other co-workers.

I spend the rest of the morning searching the paper and making calls about job openings before hitching a ride into the city and going door-to-door. It's very late by the time I get back to Yami's house. I'm sure if he'd been home I'd have gotten an earful. As it is, I listen to his three messages asking me to call him back, get something to eat and go to bed.

"I got a job," I inform Yami over dinner the next day.

"You did? When? Where?" he gawks.

I tell him about the small shop near his hotel that needed a stock clerk and part-time cashier starting next week. I'd apparently been the only applicant not to haggle about the money, **Y**950/hour, so they'd hired me on the spot.

"That's great, Seto!" he beams. "Just let me know what your hours are and I'll drive you in. And on the days that I stay at the hotel, you can too!"

Part of me worried that he'd resent my getting a job; that he'd want to keep me indebted to him forever, but he's more excited than I am.

Maybe he's been on my side all along.

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The sticky mess in my pajamas greets me yet again as I open my eyes; quite the awkward side effect from having a job. Since Yami started driving me to and from work almost a month ago, his close proximity keeps affecting me. And staying here in the hotel suite with him every week only makes it worse!

He's always so close...

At his house, a hallway separates our rooms. In this suite, there is only the wall. I turn my head and gaze through the darkness at said wall. How long until I can't use its flimsy presence as an excuse to keep me from going into that room?

I lay in bed a little longer, listening for Yami's familiar steps in the outer rooms. Hearing none, I carefully get out of the bed and head straight into the adjoining bathroom for a shower and to hide my soiled garments in the bottom of the hamper.

Yami's out-of-tune warbling greets me as I step from my room after drying off and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans. His terrible singing has actually become less annoying and more endearing these last few weeks, I almost don't want to tell him to stop.

"Trying to raise the dead again, Yami," I tease, surprising myself even more than Yami as I hadn't meant to say anything at all.

After a moment of shock, he laughs loudly, offering to have a cup of tea with me before he heads out for his morning shift. That's when I realize that I'm up much earlier than I need to be since Yami's shift starts at 6:15 am.

"Sure," I reply evenly, ignoring the stirring that the sound of his voice brings.

I want to tell him; I should tell him...but...

I wave to the retreating form of my friend, deciding that maybe I should leave things as they are; Yami's friendship is better than nothing at all.

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I awake gasping for air and shaking.

Since that night in Yami's bed I've been sleeping really well; until tonight. Dragging myself from the bed, I stumble to the bathroom, meaning to wipe my face and get a drink of water. Instead, I find myself cradling the porcelain god, losing the excellent meal that Yami treated me to earlier tonight.

I haven't thought about that night in a really long time; the night that I found Gozaboro with Mokuba. Every time I remember what that bastard did to him…I plant my face over the toilet again and heave out whatever is left in my stomach.

Once I can finally stand up, I shed my sweaty, smelly pajamas and take a really hot shower, scrubbing myself clean of that bastard's touches. I know that it's been over four years, but whenever I have that dream…I fight to keep from dry heaving in the shower while I continue to scrub the remembered filth away.

As I put on clean pajamas after drying off and brushing my teeth, I know that I'll never be able to go back to sleep without having that same dream again.

Unless…

I slip into Yami's room to find him sprawled halfway across his bed asleep.

'He won't mind,' I assure myself, sliding carefully under the covers on the other side. My body instantly relaxes in the soft comfort and I soon find myself falling asleep.


	12. You Pay

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

You Pay

I can't stop smiling. Not since Mokuba's call last night and the e-mail he sent a few minutes later. Knowing that I can now "talk" to him anytime I want has made me happier than I thought possible.

I dig into tonight's meal of Sukiyaki Kwansai with relish, eager to finish and go back to my room to IM my brother.

"Slow down, Seto. You don't want to choke," Yami cautions.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I just want to catch Mokuba online before he goes to the museum with his class this afternoon."

"So, you have a little brother?" Raphael prods. I'm surprised that it's taken him this long to mention Mokuba. After seeing my brother in the front room that day, I half expected him to come barreling in here not long after, demanding an explanation.

"He was adopted by a nice family and lives in Egypt," I explain, flicking my eyes to Yami in an effort to find out what he's told Raphael. A slight shake of his head is my silent confirmation.

Judging by the narrowing of his eyes, it's a gesture not missed by Raphael, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he changes the subject of conversation for our suddenly somber meal.

When I come downstairs again after 'talking' to Mokuba for about twenty minutes, I hear Yami and Raphael arguing for the first time in months.

"C'mon, Yami! A laptop? First it's clothes, and then it's redecorating his room, then a Discman, then a TV and now a laptop! And you still don't see that you're doing the same thing you did with Otogi?"

"It's not the same! Why won't you let go of that already? It's been, what, six years? If I can get over it, why can't you?"

"Because you obviously can't help making the same mistakes over and over! Somebody has to keep an eye on you, since you don't care about your own life!"

"Now, you're being ridiculous, Raph. What do you have against Seto anyway?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about that kid, Yami, but you have to admit that you're going pretty far overboard for someone you know nothing about!"

"I'm not. And I know more about him than you think," Yami asserts.

"Right; I caught that little exchange at dinner. Are you going to take his brother in now too?"

"I'm done with this conversation. You're obviously not going to listen to reason," Yami snarls, heading toward my vantage point just outside the kitchen door.

"Fine, Yami," Raphael snaps. "But when this one rips your heart out too, don't come looking for me to pick up the pieces."

He storms past Yami and out of the kitchen, nearly knocking me down. After acknowledging me with a nasty sneer, he slams out the front door.

Yami stares after him for a minute before offering me a weak smile and heading back into the kitchen.

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After his fight with Raphael, I expect Yami to be distant, but he's the same as ever; driving me back and forth to work, fawning over me and making me pastries, chatting amiably about various subjects over tea and meals. He even talks to Raphael, though it's only over the phone and I would suspect when they're at work.

But I can't help thinking that the longer I stay around the more likely it is that I'll break up their friendship. That would hurt Yami and I really don't want to hurt him.

"You've been very quiet lately," Yami prods over a light dinner in his hotel suite a few days later.

"I'm trying to figure out how not to break up your friendship with Raphael," I answer truthfully.

"What?" Yami stammers. "Break up our friendship? What are you talking about?"

"The only time you fight is when it's about me," I frown.

"Oh, that!" Incredibly, he laughs. "Raphael thinks he's my guardian angel; has since we were in high school together. He worries about me because he thinks that I'm too trusting."

"Aren't you?" I press.

"Not as much as you might think," he smiles.

"But you took me in and you knew nothing about me," I point out.

He laughs again.

"I knew that you weren't dangerous that first night in my hotel room, Seto."

"I'm sure you didn't think Otogi was dangerous either," I snap, hurt by Yami's laughing at my concerns and jealous that Otogi was once as close to Yami as I wish I could be.

I regret my words as soon as I say them. Yami's smile fades, replaced by a look of detachment.

"You know nothing about that matter, Seto," he states coolly.

"I know that Raphael keeps comparing me to him," I retort.

With a sigh, he puts down his fork and gets up from the table.

"It's enough to argue with Raphael about this all the time," he frowns. "I won't do it with you too."

As he heads off to his room, I know that I've really hurt his feelings; just the thing I was trying to avoid. No longer hungry, I push my plate away.

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I awake in a panic, sure that I'm back on the street again and fighting off someone trying to steal my clothes. Yami's voice assures me that I'm alright, his hands on my arms calming me.

"Seto, you know I'd never send you back there, no matter what," he whispers sincerely, the light from the bedside lamp capturing the swirling emotions in his eyes. I must have been yelling out loud for him to know what I was dreaming.

"I…I…" I'm still too shaken to verbally respond, so I reply in a way I know he'll understand; I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him against me.

I feel him start at the contact before sliding his arms around my back.

"Yami…" I whisper clinging to him.

He sits down on the bed beside me and I move to the more comfortable position of having my arms around his back and my head in the crook of his neck.

"It's alright, Seto," he assures again, lightly stroking my hair.

I fall asleep nuzzling his neck.

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Things between Yami and I have been strangely awkward since that night at the hotel last week. He still drives me to and from work and we still eat together most of the time, but he's…quiet. And he seems to go out of his way not to touch me.

When I woke up later that morning, Yami was still there with me, so I thought…

But maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was just being a good friend.

"Is it really okay for me to be here, Yami?" I ask as we put away the last of our washed dinner dishes.

"Of course it is! Why would you ask that?" he frowns at me. I find that I can't hold his gaze while we talk about this and look away.

"Because you're avoiding me," I impart. "Since that night at the hotel…"

I can't say it. I still can't voice my feelings.

Yami turns me to face him. I lean into his hand as it touches my face, locking my eyes with his.

"Seto," he whispers lightly, tilting his face toward mine.

At the first brush of his lips, a warmth and electricity surge through me. It's a feeling much more intense than what I'd felt after he held me last week. His tongue slips into my mouth and I moan at the contact, responding eagerly.

Abruptly, Yami pulls way, a mixture of shock and shame in his eyes.

"Yami?" I call to him as he disappears up the stairs.

I'm unable to coax him from his room or get him to answer my entreaties for the rest of the evening. When I awake the next morning, I find a note on my door that he's gone in for his shift. It used to be a common occurrence that he leave a note for me when he left for work, so the act itself isn't unusual. But I've known his schedule for quite a while now, and for the last month, I've been riding in with him. I know that he isn't due back at work yet; he's running from me.

Two days pass and he doesn't come home.

And then two more.

I don't want to lose my job, so after missing that first day after Yami doesn't come home, I barter with a neighbor for rides into the city where I can catch a bus for work in exchange for maintaining his lawn.

Yami calls to check that I'm alright and even has Raphael cook and store several days worth of food for me, which Yami must have arranged, but he still doesn't come home. By the beginning of the second week, it's become unbearable not to have him here with me. I've gotten so used to hearing him shower next to my bedroom wall and his laughter when he's joking with me, and his voice calling me down to sample some new confectionary concoction.

And the taste of his lips…

After that fleeting moment, the memory of reciprocating his desire lingers, taunting me.

Last night, I awoke to find myself panting heavily from a half remembered dream. Unquenched desire and my swiftly moving hand eventually left sticky evidence of its nature.

I miss him. And I want him. But will he accept me as more than the homeless kid he befriended?

There's only one way to find out.

I pack a few clothes into my backpack before my usual ride into the city for work with a plan to make my way to his hotel later. By the time I arrive in his suite, it's near the end of his shift, so I use the spare card key to get in, throw my backpack into the second bedroom where I usually stay and take a seat in the recliner in the corner of his bedroom.

When he finally arrives, he must be very tired because he doesn't notice me at all and heads straight into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I hear the shower running. Deciding to ensure that he sees me this time, I leave the recliner and settle onto the edge of his bed facing the bathroom.

He comes out still slightly damp with a towel loosely draped around his hips, vigorously drying his hair with another one. He takes a startled, wide-eyed step back once he sees me.

"S-Seto," he stutters, dropping the towel in his hands, "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you," I reply, standing slowly.

"Seto…"

I step to him and place my hand softly on his neck. Lightly I brush my lips across his.

"I missed you," I repeat to his stunned face.

When I lean down to kiss him again, he deepens it, sliding his arms around my neck as his tongue dominates mine. I lose myself in the sensation as I slide one hand down Yami's torso. One of his hands rubs across my nipple as he slides it down my chest, eliciting a needy moan from me.

"Like that do you?" He inquires with a teasing grin, briefly breaking our kiss.

"Yes!" I whisper longingly.

His eyes lock with mine before we claim each other's lips again and I melt into his arms. My breath catches for a moment when one of his slowly roaming hands teases inside the back of my pants. He suddenly tenses up, breaking our kiss.

This time when he pulls back and his eyes capture mine again, they're reflecting that same shock and horror from a week ago and he steps away from me completely.

"Yami…" I call to him as he moves toward his closet, presumably to get dressed.

"I can't do this, Seto," he confesses with his back to me. "I can't do this because you'll only think of it as paying your debt to me. And I don't want that."

"No, I…"

"Just go home, Seto. We'll figure this out later. I have to get to work." He starts pulling out clothes from his closet and dresser.

"Yami…"

"Go home, Seto!" He yells, whirling to face me, poorly masked guilt and shame fighting for dominance across his features.

"You don't have to work, Yami," I state evenly. "And I don't have a home."

"You're not my property, Seto! I help you because I'm your friend! You don't owe me anything. Go home, now. We'll talk later," he sighs.

"We won't," I sneer. "You'll just hide out here, calling to check on me and sending Raphael out to feed me. He hates me, you know."

"Raphael doesn't actually hate you," he replies, completely ignoring my assertion about his hiding out. "He just doesn't understand why I – "

His eyes widen in realization and he turns away, hastily gathering his clothes and almost running back into the bathroom.

"Why you what, Yami?" I call after him. "Why you what?"

He doesn't respond so I start banging on the bathroom door.

"Why you what, Yami? Answer me!"

"Go home, Seto!" He yells back through the door.

I bang and call a few minutes more, hoping he'll come out and talk to me. I need him to talk to me about what I'm feeling. I need him to help me understand what to do now that I've actually found someone I want.

"Yami…" I call again quietly, leaning my head against the bathroom door.

He can't expect me to go back to that unbearably empty house and wait however long until he comes home. He can't expect me to act like everything is the same as before that kiss. He can't expect me to ignore my desire for him and go on like it doesn't matter!

I hear the outer door of the suite open and compose myself, stepping closer to the sound.

"Hey, Yami! Are you dressed yet? The show starts in an hour and we still have to get something to eat," Raphael shouts.

"You," he grumbles when he sees me standing in the bedroom. "What the hell are you doing here?"

…I understand, now. He and Raphael…

Yami exits the bathroom, looking a bit flustered, dressed in a pair of black casual slacks and a white, button-down shirt.

"Sorry, Raph, Seto and I were talking and I lost track of the time." He attempts a smile, but falls far short.

"Talking…" I murmur.

"Whatever, Yami. Come on. We're going be late as it is," Raphael replies gruffly, storming out of the room.

"We'll talk later, Seto," he tosses casually, not sparing a glance in my direction as he follows Raphael.

I slump onto the bed, at a complete loss for the first time since I lost Mokuba at the orphanage.

Mokuba…

Maybe I should take the Ishtars up on their earlier offer to let me live with them. I'm sure it would make Mokuba happy. I could probably find a job and help pay my way…

It would definitely be better than that empty house.

And maybe I should get away from Yami…

I will myself up from the bed and into the extra room, deciding to shower and eat before I go to sleep. I'll call the Ishtars before I go to work tomorrow. Once I know when I'll be leaving, I'll tell Yami and start packing my things.

Yes. That's what I'll do…

Ignoring the ache in my chest and the sensation of wanting to cry, I shed my clothes and climb into the shower.


	13. Slowly Fades

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

Slowly Fades

"_This really isn't a good time, Seto."_

With those seven words, and that tone of voice, Mrs. Ishtar told me everything that I'd suspected, but didn't really want to know.

She said a lot more when I called Wednesday morning, giving me some random explanation of why I couldn't come, but I completely understood her real message.

They never wanted me; only Mokuba. That's why they left me here.

All the love that they have to give is reserved for their twins and my brother, who's also now their son.

The offers for me to stay with them were only given as an afterthought; an appeasement for Mokuba.

Not that I blame them, really. Why would they want me? It's not as though I have anything I can contribute to their family. After all I'm just a homeless sex slave who's never even been to school.

They saw that they could still "save" Mokuba, that's why they took him. There's nothing left of me to "save."

Mokuba can be shown off to their well-educated, upper class friends because of how smart he is, even after having been an "orphan." He'll eventually go to high school and college and make them proud, while I've never even gotten to junior high.

As for _my_ future, I'll eventually wind up back on the streets since I have no marketable skills and as someone with no official records, I don't actually exist.

Of course they want to limit my time with Mokuba; limit the negative influence that I would be on him. That's what good parents do for their children; keep them away from harmful elements.

And what could be more harmful than a daily reminder, in human form, that your father was a child rapist.

"Koizomi!" My boss calls from the doorway of the storeroom "Go help Nyoka on the register! The lunch crowd is overwhelming her again."

"Yes, sir," I acknowledge, grateful for the distraction.

Stocking shelves is mindless drudgery, which allows me to think too deeply about my situation. Working the cash register requires much more attention, not only to keep track of the financial transactions, but also to give adequate customer service; which admittedly isn't my best skill.

I look up and smile politely at the next customer in my line; a 20-something year old blonde in half glasses who's giving me a less than respectable gaze. It's the same look that she's been giving me almost every day for the past three weeks. Maybe I should encourage her; form a relationship of some sort so that I'll have a place to go when I leave Yami's house.

He didn't come back again last night. That's another two days that he's been avoiding me. Maybe he's hoping that I'll be gone by the time he returns. I'm doing my best to get out of his house, but it's kind of hard to find a place that will rent to me on such short notice; especially with my paltry wages. Now I know why the others who applied haggled so much over the salary. Maybe if I ask to work more hours, I'll have a better shot at finding a place.

Automatically, I start scanning the items of the next customer in my line as I mentally plan how to approach my boss.

"I didn't know you worked here," a slightly harsh voice accuses.

I look up with a start into the face of my newest customer; Raphael.

"So, how long have you worked here?" he inserts into my stunned silence.

"Um, a few months," I stammer.

Dealing with Raphael at Yami's house or when we're all out together is one thing. Having him show up unexpectedly where I work is another; especially now that I can't count on Yami to act as a buffer. I hate to admit it, even to myself, but a part of me has always been a little afraid of him.

Watching him head out of the store, I wonder what he's going to say to Yami about having seen me here. In all honesty, I'm amazed that I've never seen him or Yami here before now, considering how close this store is to the Wyndham. Then again, what's the likelihood that either of them would want or need something that the hotel couldn't provide?

I'm reaching to give the next customer their receipt when I see Raphael's attached at the end. Separating the two, I put the proper one into the bag of the scowling salary man that I just finished ringing up.

A glance at the list of items on Raphael's receipt staggers me.

How did I not see that when I rang him up? They had to have been clearly marked, so how could I have not seen them? Yet, there's the proof of his purchase in black and white; Trjn Rbd.

I suppose that's one item that the hotel might not supply.

Another customer comes into my line and I ring them up mechanically while my mind rushes along to explain why Raphael would be buying condoms; Yami.

If I wasn't sure before…

I swallow my hurt and disappointment and finish the rest of my shift.

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Though my neighbor gives me a ride to the bus for work in the daytime, every evening I have to walk the mile and a half back. It's not a bad trek and has allowed me time to think about my situation, which I've been grateful for and even enjoy to an extent.

At least I enjoyed it before what happened with Yami on Tuesday night. Now, this walk is anything but enjoyable as I try not to dwell on the fact that Yami will probably be putting me out soon. He refused to take any money from me before for rent, but maybe now I can get him to change his mind he will let me stay in the house if I pay him.

No. He won't; because, just like the Ishtars, he doesn't want me either.

And neither does Mokuba. I'm sure that he loves me in his own way, but it's obvious that he's become part of the Ishtar family now and doesn't need or want me in his life anymore.

I stop walking for a few moments to choke back the pain of that admission. What's the point of anything if even Mokuba doesn't want me?

A car horn reminds me that I'd stopped walking in the middle of the street. Quickly composing myself, I continue to make my way back to Yami's house, which has once again become my quaint, little blue prison.

Opening the door, I stumble back a step when I see Yami sitting in the front room.

"Seto…" he begins as he stands.

Not a word from him in three days and he tries to approach me so calmly. He's probably only here because he knows that I've figured out his relationship with Raphael.

Turning away, I quickly escape past him and up the stairs. I can't deal with Yami right now. Not on top of everything that I know. A few days ago I'd have given anything for him to be here, but now...

Shedding my clothes, I head into the shower to wash away the day's work and calm my mind. When I return to my room and find Yami sitting on the bed, it's not lost on me that the situation is almost exactly like our last meeting.

I feel more than a little exposed standing in front of him in just a towel. A week ago I would almost have welcomed the situation.

"Seto…" he begins again, but I cut him off.

"I'm having a hard time finding a place just now," I begin, "but if you'll let me stay here a few more weeks, a month at the most, until I can find a place… I'd pay you rent until then, of course."

"Find a…Why would you need…? Pay rent…?" his brow knits in confusion as he trails off.

"It's only fair that I would pay rent, Yami, since I'm just a border in your house. I wouldn't want Raphael to think that I'm using you. I'm sure in his mind he should be the one living with you instead of me anyway."

"What in the world are you talking about, Seto?" he questions incredulously.

It seems that he wants me to say it outright; admit out loud what I know. Maybe he thinks it will help me to accept it better. Whatever the reason, I suppose I should give him what he wants. As soon as I do, we can get to negotiating how much he will accept for me to stay here. Hopefully, it won't be so much that I'll be unable to save enough to move out. I really wouldn't want to still be living here if Raphael decides to come by with his condoms.

"I'm simply trying to give you and Raphael the freedom to come to your house and use the condoms instead of forcing you to meet at the hotel," I assert.

The emotions that flit across Yami's face within the span of a minute are incredible.

Confusion. Shock. Understanding. Acceptance. Amusement. Sadness. Resolve. Determination.

When he locks eyes with mine before he speaks, I'm not sure what to expect.

"I'm sorry, Seto, " he states evenly.

What is he apologizing for?

"I'm sorry that I hid from you," he continues. "I'm sorry that I left you emotionally confused when you needed me. I'm sorry for making you think that you have to leave when I told you that you could stay here as long as you wanted. And I'm doubly sorry for not making sure that you understood my relationship with Raphael."

"I understand your relationship perfectly well," I retort, confused by his monologue.

"No. You don't," he insists, stepping toward me.

I move out of his reach, ignoring the disappointed grimace at my action. It's best that I keep my distance and a level head, so I can't let him touch me. It's bad enough that my serious bargaining position has been reduced by my lack of clothing. I'd change, but then I'd be too close to him.

"Raphael isn't interested in me like that, Seto," he sighs, taking a small step toward me. "He's madly in love with a waitress from that café where we always have lunch."

"That's not possible," I contend. "He's always around you. And he's been trying to get me away from you for months! Why would he do that if he didn't want you for himself?"

"He's a bit of a 'mother hen' when it comes to me," he chuckles lightly, despite the heavy atmosphere. "He always has been and probably always will be. And after that fiasco of a relationship that I had with Otogi, he got worse!"

"That doesn't explain why he hates me so much, Yami. Or why you never say anything to him about how he treats me!" I counter.

"You're right, Seto. I should have said something to him. And I'm sorry about that too. But in all honesty he doesn't really hate you. He's simply worried about me. Truthfully, I've been ignoring his behavior for years because I was never seriously interested in anyone else and didn't care if he inadvertently chased them off."

He steps into my personal space and I find myself unable to move. Despite my misgivings, I can't help but lean into his hand as it reaches my face grateful for the touch that I've craved for the past several days.

"At least not until recently," he whispers.

"Yami…" I trail off, hoping that I'm not misunderstanding what he's confessing to me.

"The problem is that you're so very young, Seto," he sighs, eyes still firmly fixed on mine. "You've had so much to deal with in your life, and I worry that you're only seeing me as a security blanket, an anchor in a world where you've honestly needed one, and not as a man who cares for you."

"I'm not the 'scared, broken, little kid' you seem to think I am, Yami," I insist, standing a bit straighter.

"Hmm. Maybe not," he grins, capturing my face in his hands and pulling me down into a tender kiss.


	14. Away

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**Away**

"I can't believe she went back to him," Yami mumbles about the woman on the screen who's going back to her cheating husband.

As usual, it's Wednesday night and we're watching one of his sappy dramas; what's unusual is how we're watching it.

Normally, Yami sits on one end of the couch and I sit next to him alternating between a light doze and listening to his running commentary about the show. After yesterday's events, our position has altered considerably. Though I'm still following my normal routine of listening some but dozing more, tonight I'm doing so from a prone position across Yami's torso. As his fingers go back to lightly sifting through my hair, I nuzzle my face deeper into his chest.

A door opens and closes as I'm dozing and I imagine that it's the cheating husband going out again until a loud, angry voice startles me awake.

"What the hell is this, Yami?"

Responding to Raphael's tone, I move to sit up, but Yami holds me fast.

"We're watching Garden of Wind like we do every Wednesday," Yami replies casually, tightening his grip around me.

What is Yami doing? That's just going to upset Raphael more! I turn to face the larger man, expecting him to start screaming any minute. Instead, he stares at Yami incredulously before cutting his eyes to scowl at me. A moment later, he turns his attention back to Yami who maintains eye contact with an increasingly agitated Raphael while his own face remains calm. I would almost believe he isn't fazed by the blonde's stare if it weren't for the fine tremors I can feel going through the body beneath me.

Long moments later, Raphael turns away with, "I mean it, Yami. I won't help you this time."

"Raph, you know it's not the same. He's nothing like Otogi," Yami responds quietly.

"You're right," he snarls, glaring at me again. "He's much worse than Otogi!"

"He's not!" Yami defends, sitting up and pulling me with him. "What is your problem with Seto anyway?"

"Don't you remember that he was selling his body on the street when you found him?" Raphael replies. "You don't know where he's been or what kind of diseases he could have – "

"He's not diseased!" Yami yells, rising.

Abruptly I remember when Yami took me to get checked out a few days after I told him about Gozaboro. I was overwhelmingly relieved when my results came back negative for any sexually transmitted diseases.

Raphael smirks at him, and then, with obvious disdain in his eyes, turns and narrows his eyes in my direction.

"So you've already tasted his wares?" He poses to Yami coolly. "How can you be so willfully stupid? Are you that hard up for sex?"

A slight gasp from Yami is followed by a painful grimace.

"But we haven't – " I intrude.

"Is that really all you think I care about?" Yami counters over my interruption.

"Hell, I don't know, Yami!" Raphael snaps back. "What other explanation could there be for you desperately clinging to something you found on the sidewalk?"

"He's not a 'thing,' he's not diseased and he's not worse than Otogi!" Yami yells in obvious frustration. "In fact, he's – "

Pulling up short in his rant, he turns to me. Even in the face of Raphael's open hostility, he's determined to keep my confidences. I'm grateful for his loyalty and support, but having him stand behind me isn't worth losing his best friend.

"It's okay, Yami…" I venture, taking his hand. It's not that I want my secrets revealed to Raphael, but if it will keep them from fighting about me anymore…

Yami responds with a slight shake of his head.

"Why can't you just trust me?" he sighs, turning back to Raphael, still holding my hand.

There is a moment of stunned silence on Raphael's part before he snarls, "Secrets at this late date, Yami? Does our friendship mean so little to you?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Raph," Yami intones. "It seems that you're the one making my choice for companionship into an issue of loyalty to you."

Raphael blinks in surprise before glaring at me and sneering, "He's going to hurt you, Yami. And I'm not going to stand around to watch you fall or help you pick up the pieces of your life again."

"You're wrong," Yami asserts, staring into his friend's eyes. "But you should do what you think is best."

I pull on Yami's hand and open my mouth to try to convince him to let me tell Raphael the truth about myself, but am cut off by Raphael.

"Yami, you know that I'm just trying to keep you safe!" he yells in obvious exasperation.

"No, you're trying to control me," Yami retorts.

"Control you? What the hell? Why would I – "

"It's partially my fault," Yami cuts him off sternly. "Because I let you get away with doing it for much of my life. But we're not in high school anymore, Raph, or college dorms or culinary school. Seto isn't Otogi and I'm more than old enough to take care of myself. I don't need you to tell me how to live my life!"

At the end of Yami's impassioned statement, Raphael's face takes on a decidedly somber cast before he turns and heads out of the living room.

"Have it your way, Yami," he tosses over his shoulder. Moments later we hear the front door slam.

Though Yami's eyes are hidden from me as he stares after his friend, his clinching of my hand and rigid form tell me all I need to know.

"Yami…" I lightly touch his arm, at a loss of what to do now.

While I'm glad that he defended me so strongly and kept my secrets, I didn't want to come between him and Raphael. He should have just told Raphael the truth. I would willingly sacrifice my past for a future with Yami.

"How about some pastries, Seto? Those dramas always awaken my sweet tooth." The joviality in his voice is an obvious sham, but he turns away from me and heads toward the kitchen.

I watch him retreat into his haven, hoping that once he's calmed some, he'll want to talk about what just happened.

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It's been three days and Yami hasn't said anything about the fight with Raphael.

In fact, he hasn't said much of anything at all.

Thursday night we came here to the hotel for Yami's Friday morning shift. He left me sleeping and went in as usual and I went to work a few hours later.

When I got back that evening, he was staring out the French doors, clenching and unclenching his fists. As soon as I got near him, he'd plastered on that forced smile that I'd seen the night before and suggested a quick shower before we went out to eat. He'd stayed subdued throughout dinner and the drives to and from and then made a point about sleeping alone.

Now, as I'm mindlessly stocking shelves, I can't help but think that this is all my fault. If he had just left me there…

No, I'm glad that he didn't leave me out on the streets. He saved me; gave me the chance to see Mokuba again, though it'll probably be the last time for a while.

I pause in my work a moment to pull his latest picture from my wallet. It's barely been a week since I got his letter with the school picture inside along with a family photo. I smile to myself as I see that he looks even more like our mother with his hair pulled back from his face.

"_I'm not cutting my hair until I see you again, Seto!"_ he'd declared somewhere it the letter, making me hope for a reunion at some point in the near future.

Slipping the picture back into my wallet, I smile to myself at the thought of Mokuba's hair down to his knees, since it will likely be years before I see him again.

"She'd never allow that," I whisper to myself, knowing that Mrs. Ishtar would probably cut it herself at that prospect.

At least I'm still able to stay in contact with him, even if he doesn't really need me for anything anymore.

Returning to the mindless shelving, I'm almost glad when my boss calls me to man the register again. At least until the sight of a large blonde man entering the store causes me to nearly drop a glass jar of something and make a huge mess. It's not Raphael, but the site of him forces my mind back to where it had escaped earlier.

I have to do something to make Yami feel better. Maybe if I fix things with Raphael…but how? What can I do?

I look up at the sound metal scraping the floor behind me, to find my boss trying to drag a large cot into the storage area. After finishing up with my last customer, I close my register and go help him.

"Thanks, Seto! You're a lifesaver!" he grunts as we lift the large contraption and haul it into the storage room. With a little extra pushing and shoving, we manage to get it stuffed into a little used corner.

"Sorry for making you help me with that. My daughter brought it back with her from a visit with her mother last year. I still don't know why she bought it. I think it was a novelty to her since she hadn't ever seen one and wondered what they were like. Her mother indulges her far too much for my tastes. Well, let's get back to work," my boss insists, heading out of the storeroom. Before following his lead I stare a few moments longer at the cot as an idea of how to fix everything between Yami and Raphael begins forming in my head.

I finish my shift and head back to the hotel, expecting to see Yami with that fake smile plastered on his face again.

"Welcome back," he grins idiotically as I walk in the door. "I thought we could eat in tonight if that's okay with you. I know you'd rather eat in the restaurant, but…"

At that moment I remember that Raphael is the head chef at the restaurant where Yami works. No wonder he'd been like that last night and why he's trying to fake his smiles.

"It's fine if we eat in, Yami," I reply evenly. "We could even order something from a delivery place if you want."

At the relief in Yami's face, I figure that I've said the right thing. When I come out from my shower, we order a pizza and cuddle quietly until it arrives.

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"Happy birthday, Seto," he whispers against my lips.

While our last night at the hotel had been spent kissing and exploring each other like we've done many times, I wonder that he's not tried to take me yet. I've enjoyed his touches and kisses and lips all over me tremendously, but…

I open my lips to his fiery morning kiss, hoping that his reluctance to have sex with me has been because I was only 17. The night we'd gotten together, he'd mentioned my age as though it were a problem for him. Maybe now he'll think of me as more of an adult and his lover and not a fragile little kid.

"Seto," he moans, pressing his arousal against mine and confirming that there will again be nothing deeper between us than heavy petting.

Wrapping my legs around Yami's waist, I abandon myself to his ministrations.

After a shared shower to cleanse our sticky and sweaty selves, we head down to the kitchen for a light breakfast.

As we sip tea over our toast and jam, I press the subject of his fight with Raphael again.

"You should call him, Yami," I suggest.

"And say what, Seto?" he frowns. "I'm not giving you up, so why bother when I know that's what he wants?"

"He's your best friend," I reason. "Are you really never going to speak to him again?"

He looks away instead of responding.

"Yami…" I prod at his silence.

"I don't want to talk about this right now," he asserts, emphasizing his point by leaving the kitchen.

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I glance at Yami sitting rigidly at the kitchen table as I gather what I'll need to make dinner. It's been a little less than two weeks since Yami's fight with Raphael and he still hasn't talked about it other that the morning of my birthday. My two attempts since then to discuss it met once with silence and once with the answer he'd given me before.

Last night after dinner, I tried to bring it up again, but he changed the subject to 'the new pastry idea he's working on.'

Or the new pastry idea that he says he's working on. Since the night of the fight, he hasn't baked one pastry at home.

"We haven't had any pastries for a while, Yami," I mention casually as I make dinner, hoping he'll hop up energetically like he used to whenever the confectionary treats were mentioned.

"Mmm," is all the response I get, worrying me further.

Though this isn't the first time he and Raphael have had a bad fight about me, I think it's the first time Yami really believes that Raphael isn't coming back. It shows in his stance, his walk, and in the way his eyes never seem to shine anymore.

At the hotel, he spends most of the time he's not working staring outside or chatting with me about nonsense, a false smile highlighting his conversations. We'll have sessions of quenching our desire for one another, but never advance beyond touching and kissing. Afterward, we'll shower together, sharing a few light kisses, but he doesn't let me sleep with him in the suite.

When we're at home, he keeps me close to him, but barely speaks. We touch and taste each other nearly every night, but he insists we shower and sleep separately.

In both places, he's constantly looking at the phone, even if out of the corner of his eye.

He's so unhappy and nothing I do is working to make him better. He needs Raphael back in his life, which I'm sure won't happen as long as I'm around.

Out of the blue, I remember the cot still in the storeroom at work and my earlier thought to make use of it. I'd dismissed the idea before, hoping that I could somehow keep Yami happy without Raphael around. It's obvious now that I was wrong.

After dinner, I slip off to my room to write out my plan and study it for flaws. As I kiss him goodnight a few hours later, I know by the shadow of pain in his eyes that I'm doing the right thing.

Yami saved me for Mokuba. I can save him for Raphael.

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It's taken a few days, and some of my savings, but I finally put the plan in motion that I'd come up with while helping my boss move that cot. First, I'd gotten my boss to give me more hours in the store so that I could eventually pay for something on my own. I'd then hinted that my living arrangements were a little shaky and that I would need somewhere to stay for a week or two.

"You're sure that it's only for a week?" my boss asks me for the third time this morning.

"Two at the most," I confirm.

"Alright, then. But you can't let anyone know you're staying in here, okay?" he reminds me again.

"I won't," I promise.

He nods and steps back out into the store as I arrange the few belongings I've taken with me from Yami's house over the last few days into the corner near the cot. I then place the futon I bought yesterday on top of the cot's canvas sleep area to be rolled out onto the floor when I begin sleeping here. After my shift tonight, I'll go looking again for a place to live. Yami will still be at work when I get back, so I'll pick up dinner for us at the noodle cart down the block and then go to the hotel and wait for him.

As I work in the stock room a few hours later, my mind begins to wander. I'm unsure if the note I'm intending to leave for Yami when I move out is believable. I'd planned to tell him that I've gone to visit Mokuba for a while, thinking that it's the only thing I could say that wouldn't have him looking for me right away. But as I think about it more, that story's not likely to work. After all, he knows where I work and how much I make; would he even believe that I could afford a trip to visit Mokuba? And even if he did, what if he called to speak to me and found I wasn't there? Then Mokuba and Yami would both be upset when they couldn't find me.

I still think that moving out is the best way to get Raphael back. I know that it will hurt Yami in the beginning, but it will be better for him in the long run. After all he's done for me I can at least get his best friend back.

"His only friend, really," I mumble to myself.

Yes, it will be better if I go. It isn't right for my presence to keep them apart. Maybe I should leave Yami's house before next week and speed things up a little. I might have to settle for a cheap hotel for a while if my boss doesn't agree to my moving in a few days early, but it will be worth it if I can make Yami feel better sooner.

Last night with Yami had been…difficult. I could tell that he'd finally wanted to take me, but I knew that it would be one of our last nights together and I didn't want to hurt him anymore than necessary. Knowing that he'll soon wake to find me gone, I hadn't wanted to cause him that additional heartache.

I didn't want to cause myself any additional heartache either.

Kami, I wanted him! To know that I could have had sex with someone I love at last…

Tearing my mind away from such unpleasant thoughts, I go back to planning how I'm going to help Yami.

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I decide to wait for Raphael after work as I doubt he'll be back in the store anytime soon. As I don't know his schedule as well as Yami's, I miss him the first two days that I wait outside the employee entrance. Since it's not likely that Raphael will call the house, nor is it likely that Yami will call him, this seems my best course of action if I want to let him know that I've left Yami's house.

"I'm helping my boss do inventory and he's letting he stay at his house nearby," I told Yami over coffee two mornings ago.

Deceiving him about my whereabouts had left a bad taste in my mouth, but I had to explain why I wouldn't be at the hotel the first night and why he wouldn't need to pick me up the second, and to cover up the fact that I've moved into the storeroom at work.

Lost in my thoughts, I nearly miss Raphael when he walks by I touch his arm lightly from behind and he turns around. Blinking momentarily in the twilight, it takes him a minute to recognize me.

"You!" he spits angrily. "What the hell do you want?"

"It'll be alright, now," I offer.

"What will be alright?" he frowns in confusion.

"I've left the house so you can be friends with him again. He's done so much for me that I didn't want him to be in pain anymore. You're the only friend he has; I have to get you back for him," I clarify.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Raphael snorts incredulously.

I start to reply, but then wonder again about my chosen course of action. Telling Raphael about leaving Yami so they could be friends again had made perfect sense when I'd decided what to say to him a few days ago, but now…

Don't I at least owe Raphael the truth? Hadn't I wanted Yami to tell him about me that day? Hadn't I tried finding an opening to tell him myself? Besides, it's not like he can think any worse of me than he already does.

"My name isn't Seto Koizomi," I insert into the awkward silence.

"You expect me to be surprised that you lied about your name?" he snarls.

I open my mouth to tell him the rest of my story and remeber that we are standing near the fairly busy employee entrance of the Wyndham.

"Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?" I glance around, nodding politely to one of the hotel worker's as they pass by us, glad that Yami won't be one of them tonight.

"Why?" he presses, glaring at me with distrust. "You think you can trap me with your 'wares' as easily as you did Yami?"

His look and tone remind me of that first night at the hotel with Yami. Back when I still lived on the streets; when I still traded my body for a meal and a place to sleep before Yami saved me.

"_I don't do that sort of thing,"_ Yami had said, glaring at me in the same way that Raphael is now.

I can't help but shiver in revulsion at the mental image of my former self.

"I'm not…offering myself to you," I force, briefly looking away at the memories that statement brings. "And Yami and I haven't…I just want to talk to you."

"Fine," he grinds out. "My car is in the garage down the block."


	15. Every Year

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**Every Year**

"Where are we going?" I ask Raphael as we walk up to his car.

"Somewhere no one knows me. I don't want to be seen in public with you," he snaps.

I simply nod in acknowledgement before climbing into the passenger side and buckling up.

After 20 minutes of driving, we finally pull to a stop at a small restaurant on an empty side street.

"C'mon. I'm sure you haven't had anything to eat yet, so we'll talk and eat," he commands, exiting the car and heading inside.

I wait until we've settled into our seats and the tea has been served before speaking again.

"I didn't always live on the streets," I state.

"Right," he scoffs, raising his cup to his lips. "You're really rich and grew up in a mansion."

I know he meant it to mock me, but…

"Yes," I confirm.

He chokes on his sip of tea.

"What?"

"My name isn't Seto Koizomi. It's Seto Kaiba," I disclose.

His eyes widen in shock before narrowing in suspicion.

"Of course it is. Is that the big secret that Yami was trying to keep from me? That you're an accomplished liar? If Gozaboro Kaiba was your father, you're certainly doing a fine job of living up to his name," he sneers.

"Stepfather," I correct looking away, hoping that the flood of memories invoked by my confession don't overwhelm me. "That man was my stepfather. His blood only runs through Mokuba's veins, not mine."

"And if you are his kid, aren't you supposed to be in boarding school?" he continues, skeptically. "And shouldn't you be, I don't know, rich instead of selling yourself to the highest bidder?"

"We – I don't want his money," I force.

"How convenient," he taunts. But you didn't answer me about the boarding school. Is it because you don't have an answer?"

"We were never in boarding school. That's the lie they told to keep the truth out of the news that we'd run away," I explain.

"Right; you ran away. You have an answer for everything, don't you? Why would anyone leave such wealth to live on the street? How stupid do you think I am?" he scoffs.

"I wouldn't have left if it had only been me," I divulge, my breath catching as I try to banish the feelings tumbling into me with the memories. "I'd endured for almost five years. I would have made it until I could leave him. But when he started with Mokuba…"

"Wh-What?" Raphael stammers. "What are you talking about?"

"The first time he touched me I was nine and my mother had just died," I choke, staring at the table in front of me. "He came to my room several times a week; sometimes every night. But I'd gotten used to it. Even though I hated it, I'd come to expect it and thought that I could endure until I was old enough to leave. But then…"

I close my eyes as that memory assaults me again.

My stepfather's voice crooning in comfort as he forced himself into my brother's small body; Mokuba crying and trying to fight him off; that sick smile of satisfaction from Gozaboro at completing the vile act…

I don't even remember standing, let alone how I got to the side of the building when I find myself heaving up everything I've had for probably the last two days. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and stay there leaning against the building for a few minutes as I try to get my self under control.

Suddenly, Raphael's large hands enter my field of vision holding what looks to be several tissues and a wet cloth napkin.

"Th-thank you," I manage, grasping both. I use the tissues to blow my nose and the napkin to wipe my face and the sleeve where I wiped the vomit from my lips.

"Can you stand?" he asks quietly.

"Yes," I grate, using the wall to pull myself up. "I-I'm sorry. That memory…"

I close my eyes and try to fight down a second wave of bile.

"Maybe I should get you home," Raphael's voice intrudes, breaking the memory cycle for the moment.

"No, just take me back to the store. I have a cot there," I murmur, heading back into the restaurant for my shoes and maybe a glass of water to rinse my mouth.

"So, you were serious about leaving Yami?" he presses.

"Yes," I affirm.

After gathering my shoes, I get directions to the bathroom where I splash water on my face and rinse my mouth. Raphael's waiting by the door when I come out.

"I still don't believe that you're Kaiba's kid," he declares as we pull away. "But I do believe you've suffered some sort of childhood trauma."

"I thought you might not believe me, but I wanted to tell you the truth anyway," I respond. "It will make it easier for you to comfort Yami if you know everything."

"Do you realize how stupid you sound?" he cuts his eyes at me. "You're going to break Yami's heart and then expect that he'll be happy because I start coming around again? What are you, 12?"

"This is all I can do," I confide to the man who is the closest thing I've ever had to a real enemy. "Yami's miserable. My presence isn't helping him. If I weren't around, you would still be speaking to him."

We stop at a light and I can feel him staring at me.

"I owe him my life," I add quietly.

"How old are you?" he presses as we pull off again.

"I turned 18 last week," I sigh, certain that he's going to berate me for that too.

A long silence passes before he mumbles, "Shit! You really are just a kid, aren't you?"

"I'm not. I haven't been a kid since I was nine," I insist.

We ride in silence for another few miles before he speaks again.

"You can't leave Yami," he declares.

I turn to face him, staring incredulously at his profile. He can't be asking me to go back to Yami and watch him miserably ramble around the house and hotel.

"I've never seen Yami fight so hard for anything except being a pastry chef. And never for any person," he expounds glancing at me.

"What do you mean?"

"I suppose I'm also a little jealous that he chose you over our friendship," he continues, seemingly ignoring my question.

"He didn't," I correct. "He was just defending me because he's a good man."

"He did," Raphael states. "He's never done so before. And you're right; he is a good man. Unfortunately, that trait has left him open to a lot of crap from various sources. In the past, I've always managed to make him see the clouds beneath the temporary 'silver lining.' I considered you one of the clouds. Still do. But if Yami is fighting so hard for you…"

"If your ability to spot crap is so great, then what about Otogi," I press, not sure I want to know so much as I want to point out that he doesn't know everything.

"Otogi…" he trails off with a grimace. "Unfortunately, Otogi pulled the wool over both our eyes. By the time I figured out what was going on, I knew that I could only hurt Yami with the news. I didn't want to slip up like that again with you."

"I'm not Otogi," I assert.

"I know…" he trails off again, remaining silent a few minutes before turning to me with a furrowed brow when we reach another stop light.

"I know that you're not Otogi," he imparts before having to turn away again and drive. You're much worse in a way, because Yami has well and truly fallen for you; fallen hard enough to lock me out of his life. He never locked me out when he was with Otogi. And he certainly never acted to keep any of the man's secrets. As distraught as Yami was after Otogi, I knew he'd eventually be okay. But with you, I worry that he would never recover from the loss. And I'm even more certain after the last time I talked to him."

I keep silent for the rest of our trip, digesting all that Raphael has divulged. So complete is my distraction that I don't realize that we've pulled up at Yami's house until he turns off the car.

"What are we doing here?" I demand. "I told you to drop me off at the store!"

"I told you earlier," he replies calmly. "You can't leave him."

"But – "

"Not only is it a stupid idea, but it would only upset Yami even more. And I don't think I'd be able to help him this time," he interjects.

"You don't understand," I begin before being cut off again.

"What were you going to tell him that wouldn't have him turning over every stone to find you once you disappeared? That you went back home?"

"I'd planned to tell him that I went to visit my brother," I explain.

"Didn't you say that he lived in Egypt? Do you honestly think Yami is stupid enough to believe that you have the money to fly there?" he scolds.

"I…um…" I have no good reply for that question as the same thought had plagued me earlier.

Our conversation is cut short by Yami opening his front door and hurrying toward the car. A look of shock crosses his face as he sees me in the passenger seat.

"Raph, Seto…what…?" A stark confusion settles on his face.

"I saw him outside the hotel and we went for a drive to talk things out," Raphael offers as he exits the car.

Yami's surprised gaze lands on me next as I climb out behind him.

"Why don't we talk inside Yami," I suggest.

He nods his head and takes my hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once inside, I excuse myself to rinse my mouth properly and change out of the shirt that smells slightly of vomit. My plan changes to include a quick shower when I remember that I'm sweaty both from work and getting sick. After drying off, I put on a pair of loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt.

I'd initially thought to keep Yami in the dark about my moving out until I was ready to tell him by leaving my room in its normal state. That meant leaving most of my clothes in the closet and the dresser as well as various other items of mine scattered around. I even left my framed picture of me and Mokuba from when he visited with the Ishtars. I needed to make sure that Yami couldn't figure out my plans by simply looking in my room.

I listen intently as I head downstairs, hoping not to hear Yami and Raphael fighting again. I'm pleasantly surprised to find them talking quietly in the kitchen, though the somber tone of their conversation tells me that all still isn't well between them.

Yami looks up at me when I step through the doorway, his eyes swirling with emotion.

"So, you were leaving me," he rasps.

Shocked and angry, I glare accusingly at Raphael.

"He didn't tell me," Yami interjects. "I found your plan and checklist on the floor under your desk this morning."

My eyes widen in comprehension that I hadn't thrown it away as I'd planned before we left for the hotel.

"Yami…" I start to explain, but he continues talking.

"Raphael tells me that you went to him to tell him your true identity and that you'd already moved out. Were you even going to say good-bye? Or were you going to continue to lie to me about 'taking inventory' at work?" he exclaims.

"You were miserable!" I yell, the pain in his voice more than I can stand. "And my being here didn't make a difference! You needed Raphael and he wouldn't come back if I stayed here. Getting your friend back was the only way I could repay you for all you've done for me. I have nothing else to offer you."

He's silent for a few moments before he gets up from the kitchen table and approaches me.

Pulling my head down, his lips meet mine in a light kiss that he deepens almost immediately. Glad that he's still willing to touch me, I slide my arms around his back and respond eagerly. He pulls away after several moments and frowns dejectedly at me.

"It's always been about payment with you hasn't it, Seto?" he intones sadly, a note of accusation to his voice. "I knew, but I didn't want to believe that all I meant to you was another debt in your life to be repaid."

"It's not like that, Yami," I assure, reaching for him as he steps farther away.

"I realize that I'm an emotional coward, Seto," he continues, moving to lean against the stove. "And that I don't really like people. But with you, I wanted to try opening up more; letting someone in my heart again. Other than Raphael, I've kept everyone in my life at arms length. Even Otogi. Yes, I loved him, but I never really trusted him. So he never did get inside my heart."

"What are you talking about, Yami?" Raphael interrupts. For a split second, I'd honestly forgotten he was still here. "You were devastated after he betrayed you!"

Closing his eyes a moment, Yami turns to Raphael with a sigh.

"I wasn't," he confesses, Raphael's eyes reflecting shock at his statement. "I was terribly hurt, yes; but I was angrier at myself for allowing him to get that close in the first place than I was devastated by his actions."

"Yami…you…" Raphael stammers.

"I needed your friendship, Raph. And when you became even more over-protective than usual, I basked in the attention. It kept me from losing myself to the anger and falling even further behind in my training as a pastry chef," he expounds.

"You should have told me, Yami," Raphael snarls. "I'm not your personal pit bull who hangs around just to chase people away."

"You are," Yami states evenly. "You've always been my protector. And I've always appreciated it and needed it. But with Seto…"

He turns to me after trailing off.

"Like I told you, Seto, I've never been seriously interested in anyone before. And now to know that it's all been about payment of a debt to you…"

"It's not, Yami," I break in.

"I knew you were too young, too damaged by what happened with your stepfather..." he continues; his eyes full of apologies and pain before he looks away. "I should never have touched you, never fallen for you. Maybe you should move out, because if you stay here, I…"

He turns away from both of us and I realize that leaving him is the last thing I want to do. With or without Raphael in his life, I'll do whatever I must to make sure that Yami is happy.

Moving swiftly, I wrap my arms around Yami's trembling form.

"Being with you is not a debt to repay," I whisper into his hair. "And I'm not moving out."

"Seto…" he chokes.

"I want you to take me, Yami," I nuzzle against the back of his neck, the sudden desire to be claimed by him nearly overwhelming in its intensity.

A moment later Yami's arms are twined around my neck and we're kissing with wild abandon.

"So I guess you don't need a ride back to the store," Raphael intrudes, his tone almost supportive.

Yami and I pull back from each other, but not actually apart.

"Raph…" Yami trails off.

"Thank you for the ride home," I interject when Yami doesn't say anything more after a few moments.

"Whatever," he waves, heading out of the kitchen. "I'm going home."

Leaning up for a light kiss, Yami moves away from me to follow Raphael. I follow them both to the front room.

"Raph, wait," Yami calls.

Turning, he stares at me a few moments before offering Yami a cool expression.

"I'm still not helping you, Yami," he states evenly, causing Yami to step back in surprise.

"But maybe I won't have to."

"You won't," I impart, understanding his meaning.

"So what now, Raph?" Yami prods warily.

"Now, I go home. Tomorrow, we go grocery shopping," he replies.

I'm more than grateful to see the smile that lights up Yami's face.

After hugging Raphael goodnight and eliciting a promise from him not to come by too early, he offers that matchless smile of his to me. An instant later he's upon me and we're groping and kissing as though Raphael never interrupted us.

Several minutes later, our zeal to be with each other hinders our progress up the stairs and down the hall to Yami's room. Along the way we strip each other almost desperately, falling into his bed completely nude.

"Yami…" I gasp as two well-lubricated fingers enter me in the midst of Yami's oral pleasure.

Though it's obviously not my first time, he knows that it's been a while since I've been penetrated and takes his time preparing me.

"Yami…" I call to him again, finally more than ready for him to continue.

As he spreads my legs and slides himself against my well prepared entrance, he kisses me once more, dominating me with lips and tongue. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him to hurry as he slips inside me.

"Yami…" I moan against his lips at his first solid thrust.

I've wanted this for so long, wanted him to take me; knew that it would be unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

The reality is so much better than all of my imaginings.

The pace he sets for us is steady and strong and I find myself rapidly careening toward my first pleasurable orgasm from intercourse. I cling to Yami's quaking form, gasping for air as the beginning of his climax rolls into the end of mine.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Seto!" I hear him yelling behind me.

He's angry because I defied him and ran away with Mokuba. And now that Mokuba's safe, I just need to keep him away from me.

I run down the dark hallway and into the first room I come to, diving behind the huge armchair in the corner by the bed. Clenching my eyes shut, I try not to think about the bed nearby and what will happen if he finds me again.

I can't let him find me. He'll want to…and I can't let him. Yami is the only one who…I can't let him!

"Seto!" he bellows again from the doorway.

I cringe at the sound of his voice and try to press myself into an even smaller ball behind the chair. It's only as he's pulling me up from the floor that I remember that I'm too big now to hide in such a small space.

"No! Let me go!" I scream as he begins tearing off my clothes.

He merely laughs, subduing me easily.

"No! Not you! Only Yami! Only Yami!" I yell, fighting him desperately.

Even as I wake up still screaming, I'm not sure that I've escaped him.

"Shhh. Seto," Yami's voice frees me from the clutches of the unexpected nightmare.

The pure bliss of falling asleep in Yami's arms after a second round of lovemaking somehow morphed into the nightmare that I'd only been able to save Mokuba and not myself. I shudder at the thought of being at Gozaboro's mercy again.

"He can't hurt you anymore, Seto," Yami soothes as I bury my face in his chest. "He's dead."

"Dead," I repeat in a whisper, reminding myself.

He tilts my face up to his and kisses me lightly, love and determination shining in his eyes.

"I'm here now, Seto. And I'll protect you from his memory," Yami promises.

Believing that he will do as he says, I nuzzle my face into his chest and allow myself to drift back off to sleep.


	16. File Away Reprise

_Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks._

**File Away - Reprise**

It's amusing to see our picture on the front of the Japanese tabloid.

Well, it's not exactly our picture.

"_**Kaiba Heirs Missing?**_" the headline blares over the shot of two young boys with question marks in place of their faces. I would expect to find such a story in a more reputable paper, but I guess they're all too afraid of Kaiba Corp.

Apparently, some ambitious, Japanese reporter used her cunning and connections to find out which boarding school Mokuba and I were supposed to have been attending. She then paid her own way to Louisenlund near Kiel, Germany to get an exclusive interview with the Kaiba brothers about the death of their 'father' and the subsequent fight over his fortune. I can almost imagine her shock upon reaching the school and finding that we weren't there and that we'd never even been enrolled as students.

I smile to myself at her speculation that we'd actually been paid actors used to give Gozaboro appeal as a family man seeking to keep his sons safe and not a greedy, warmongering bastard for being a weapons manufacturer; though her suggestion that my mother had been an out of work porn star hired to 'play' his wife brings anger and sadness rather than amusement.

It's been almost ten years since she died, but I still miss her so much. I wish Yami could have met her. I know that they'd have gotten along well.

I wish Mokuba could have known her better. At least he's now able to experience something of what having a real mother is like, living with the Ishtars. Maybe I should send a copy of this article to him. I'm sure he'd be just as amused as I am that no one knows that we're real, alive, safe and happy.

Looking up from the article, I stare at the last picture I have of him on my dresser.

That smile; that bright, happy smile reminds me again that I did the right thing in getting Mokuba away from that bastard. And if I never see my little brother again, just seeing that smile on his face makes it all worthwhile.

"Seto?" Yami's voice and light touch to my shoulder draw my attention.

"Sorry, Yami," I respond into his concerned face. "I'll go get ready now."

Dropping the paper on the bed behind me, I pull out clothes to put on after my shower and head into the bathroom.

My original reason for coming up to my room had been to get ready for our double date with Raphael and his girlfriend that Yami had set up for this evening, instead of settling down to read the article I'd only skimmed yesterday.

Honestly, I'm not too keen on the idea of going on this date at all, and it's not that I don't want to meet Raphael's girlfriend. I would just rather spend my free time with Yami.

I'm also still getting used to Raphael treating me as a person and not as his sworn enemy and don't want to add another person to an already difficult circumstance.

I embarrass myself with yelp of surprise as Yami's arms slide around me under the shower spray.

"Did I scare you?" he chuckles lightly against my back.

"Maybe a little," I mumble.

A moment later, I'm anything but afraid as he presses his growing arousal against me and slides his hands between my legs.

"Yami, our date…" I pant lightly.

"Mmm, I cancelled," he replies, turning me around and pressing me against the wall.

"But…"

"You didn't want to go anyway, did you?" he nuzzles into my neck.

"I just wanted you to be happy," I admit.

He pulls back and offers me his matchless smile.

"Let's finish our shower and I'll show you how to make me happy," he leers.

* * *

"Hn. 'How to make him happy', indeed," I scoff as I slip my still slightly tired and sore body from Yami's embrace and head into the bathroom.

As much as I'd rather lay there in his arms for the rest of the day, it's already after 11:00 am and I need to be at work by 1:00 pm.

After drying off and getting dressed, I go to wake Yami for my ride to work, only to find him stretching naked beside his bed.

"Like what you see?" he teases when he catches me staring.

"Maybe," I reply evenly.

"Hmm. Too bad you have to go to work," he jokes, slipping past me into the bathroom.

Almost an hour later, after Yami's gotten ready and I've fixed us a light brunch, we're heading into the city for him to drop me off at work.

"You know that it's not because I don't like Raphael," I intone after we've been riding a few minutes. "And it's not that I don't want to meet his girlfriend."

"Well, this is the third time we've cancelled, Seto," he responds. "So, have you figured out what the problem is yet?"

I shake my head even though I know perfectly well why I have a problem with meeting Raphael's girlfriend. I also know that it's a crazy reason and one that Raphael would label stupid and that Yami would try to 'fix' anyway he could.

"I think I know," Yami poses. "And it's not something you should worry about because it won't happen."

"You don't know, Yami," I state with certainty.

He's silent for a little while and I figure that he's dropped the conversation for the moment.

"Even if she doesn't like you," he startles me with saying, "That won't change anything between me and Raphael. We're not going to start fighting over it. So relax."

"H-how did you…?" I trail off staring at him incredulously.

"I'm still your best friend, Seto," he grins at me as we pull up to my job.

"Yami…you…"

"You'd better go so you won't be late," he interrupts, still grinning. "Meet me at the hotel tonight after your shift. We're having dinner with Raphael and Rebecca at the restaurant. I'm making a special pastry for the occasion."

I open my mouth to protest, but realize that it won't do any good and promptly close it back again. Squeezing his hand tightly as both a 'good-bye' and a 'see you later' since the street is too bright and busy for me to steal a kiss, I step from the car and head into work.

* * *

I look around the restaurant as I wait for Raphael and his girlfriend, silently admonishing Yami in my head. He knows that I'm not that eager to be here and still he disappears into the kitchen leaving me to greet them on my own.

Well, he did say that he would be making a special pastry; I just assumed that he'd already have it ready when we got here.

"Hn. Like he'd serve something that was less than fresh," I scoff to myself.

Glancing at the entrance for a forth time, I spot Raphael coming in the door with a slim blonde. I stand and wave them over to the table, steeling myself for whatever reaction comes.

"Well, aren't you gorgeous?" Raphael's companion exclaims.

"Becca!" Raphael cautions.

"Well, he is! Why didn't you tell me that Yami had hooked such a hot, young thing?" she retorts, staring at me unabashedly.

Sputtering apologies to me, Raphael pulls out her chair before sitting down and offering introductions.

"Rebecca Hawkins, this is Seto Koizomi. Seto, this is my girlfriend, Rebecca," he smiles genially.

"Girlfriend?" Rebecca snips; Raphael's unexpected cringe at her tone is a sight I'll not soon forget.

"Sorry, Becca. This is my fiancée," he replies hurriedly.

It's all I can do not to laugh at Raphael's reaction. I'd thought that nothing scared him. I guess I was wrong.

"Nice to meet you!" she beams extending her hand to me.

"Nice to meet you too," I respond, somewhat impressed by her unusually strong grip.

"So, where'd Yami run off to?" she inquires glancing around. "I've been looking forward to embarrassing him for weeks!"

"Becca, come on," Raphael almost pleads, "You're embarrassing me again."

"Yami told me that you work at a café, Rebecca," I interject, not so much to save Rapahel, but to keep myself from laughing at seeing him so overwhelmed by this woman's behavior.

"I used to," she nods, "But now that my classes have started, I don't have the time."

"Classes?"

"Becca's working on a dual Doctorate of Computer Science and Mathematical Informatics," Raphael smiles proudly.

"That must be interesting," I reply, my mind wandering for a moment back to when I'd had free reign with Mr. Mouto's computer.

If my life had been different, maybe I could have gone to school like Rebecca.

"Oh it is!" she expounds. Her explanation about why she loves what she's studying flowing into a stream of technical jargon that I am a little hard pressed to follow.

"Becca, you're doing it again," Raphael snickers.

"Hey, his eyes are only partially glazed over, so that means that he understands most of what I'm talking about!" she pouts.

Raphael laughs loudly at her and I find myself relaxing a little more in her presence. She is certainly not what I expected. And seemingly not someone I need to guard against.

'_I still wish Yami would hurry up,'_ I think to myself.

"So you finally asked her," Yami's teasing voice inserts. I turn with a start as he walks up on my left.

"Finally is right!" Rebecca grins, flashing her ring at him.

"I don't know what he was waiting for," Yami grins back. He slides into the empty seat beside me and briefly takes her hand to examine the ring more closely.

"I think he was just scared," she laughs.

"Hey!" Raphael exclaims. "I was trying to wait until you finished school, but you can't seem to stay away."

"Well, he did say that, Becca," Yami concedes with a smirk.

"Mmm, I guess he did," she smiles at Raphael. "And he's right that I can't stay away from school. But I can't help it! I just love learning new things!"

Ignoring Raphael and Yami's light laughter, she turns her decidedly inquisitive gaze my way.

"So, Seto, you look like a college kid. Where do you go to school?" Rebecca asks politely, bringing an abrupt halt to my relaxed mood.

"Um…," I balk and look to Raphael, who seems just as dumbstruck as I am. Rebecca glances between us, her brow furrowing before she turns to me again.

"Let me guess. You didn't finish high school," she poses.

"No, I…I've never been, so…" I trail off.

"So you didn't finish junior high, then," she presses.

"Becca! You're being nosey!" Raphael admonishes.

"Whatever," she dismisses. "So, have you taken any of the entrance exams?"

"Becca!"

"What? All he has to do is pass the entrance exams and he can go to almost any school he wants! I'm just trying to help out," she snaps back.

"Becca, you can't just intrude on someone's privacy like that!" he admonishes in a loud whisper.

I appreciate his effort, but my mind has latched on to Rebecca's statement.

"Is it true?" I prod, quietly. "Could I really go to college just by passing entrance exams?"

"Sure!" She smiles brightly. "Maybe you could even get into a higher level school like mine if you do well enough! I'd offer to tutor you myself, but I barely see daylight as it is. You seem pretty smart. I'm sure if you went to a prep school now they'd have you ready for next January's exams. You could be in school by next April!"

"Prep school?" I shake my head at the thought of how much that would cost. And even if I could afford prep school, I'd never be able to afford University. How stupid of me to have gotten my hopes up. I have to accept that only Mokuba will be able to attend college.

"Seto?" I look up from my hard stare at the table into Yami's concerned crimson. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Yami," I force. "I simply realized that I could never take the University entrance exams."

"Why not?" He frowns. "You're smarter than most of the kids who graduate from high school."

"My brain isn't the problem," I scoff.

"Then why…?"

"I couldn't afford it!" I interrupt, my voice louder than I'd intended. "Even if I could somehow take care of prep school, there would still be the entrance exam fees, University fees and tuition!"

"See, Becca! This is why I told you not to press into his affairs," Raphael admonishes in a loud whisper.

"I-I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's fine," I insist, sitting up straighter.

"So what did you make us?" I ask Yami sitting quietly beside me, hoping to break the suddenly somber mood.

After a momentary intense stare at me, he smiles brightly and waves to one of the other chefs.

"Bon appetite!" He beams as the confectionary masterpieces are placed in front of us a few moments later.

"Hey, shouldn't we have this after dinner?" Raphael inquires.

"Meh! Life is short; eat dessert first!" Yami smiles.

"Sounds good to me!" Rebecca laughs and digs into her treat.

The rest of us follow her example.


	17. The Price Reprise

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**The Price - Reprise**

For the first time in quite a while, both of us are off work for the next three days. Yami is at home because he took one day off, apparently the first in more than two years and I'm at home because my boss closed the store to take a few days to visit his sick mother in Okinawa.

This morning, we both slept until sometime after noon, shared a slightly less than innocent shower and set about relaxing for the day. For me, that means a book on military history and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to lounge in Yami's bed. For Yami, it means an undershirt and sweatpants to sit at his desktop discussing pastries with a few of his online friends.

Tomorrow we are thinking about going on a road trip somewhere or meeting Raphael and his girlfriend for brunch.

I look up from my book at Yami's third disappointed sigh.

Normally, I don't bother Yami or read over his shoulder when he's working on his computer, but I can't help wondering what's troubling him.

I put down my book and slip from the bed, stepping up behind him.

"What?" I inquire vaguely as I slide my arms around his neck.

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing," he dismisses lightly, closing the last three internet windows he'd had open; a place to buy plane tickets, some hotel in France, and a site about what looks to be a cooking contest.

"How about some pastries?" he yawns, standing and stretching out his back.

His default to making pastries as a way of changing the subject is all the evidence I need that whatever is bothering him is definitely more than 'nothing.'

"Let me finish my chapter and I'll be down to keep you company," I intone, assenting to his suggestion.

"Okay," he smiles, pulling me down for a light kiss before shuffling away downstairs.

After reading the last three paragraphs of the chapter as I said I would, I slip into the chair at his computer. It takes me a couple of tries since I really only got a glance at the site and wasn't sure of the spelling, but I think I find what Yami was sighing about and why he'd been looking at that hotel in France and plane tickets to get there.

I step into the kitchen a few moments later to Yami's toneless warble, intent on finding out why he'd been so disappointed earlier. I wait until he's finished his preparations and the pastries are in the oven before inquiring.

"Yami, what's the World Pastry Cup?" I question calmly; not that my tone seems to help as he nearly drops the teapot.

"Do you always investigate other people's web surfing habits?" he retorts coolly.

"Only if the surfing upsets them," I reply.

"I'm only upset by your invading my privacy," he snaps.

"Which is why you're making pastries…" I trail off knowingly.

"Seto…"

"Were you planning to go there and now you can't? Is that why you're upset?" I prod.

When he doesn't respond, I press further. "Yami?"

"The World Pastry Cup or 'La Coupe du monde de la patisserie' as it's known by most chefs, is the greatest pastry making contest in the world," he explains a few moments later. "I'd planned to attend the event in January in Lyon, France, but…"

"But what?" I push when he doesn't continue.

He frowns and presses his lips together before turning away.

Barely a second later understanding assails me.

"You spent that money on me," I conclude.

His silence confirms my suspicion.

Having nothing to say that could improve the situation I leave Yami in his haven and go up to my room.

* * *

After a very early light breakfast, we hop in Yami's car and head out.

"_I just thought we'd go for a drive; maybe do a little sightseeing,"_ is all the explanation Yami gave when he woke me this morning.

I'm a little tired because I didn't sleep much last night, but I'll do my best to stay awake for whatever he's got planned.

Last night, I'd only been gone from the kitchen about five minutes before Yami followed me up to my room and brought me back down with him for tea and conversation.

He'd wanted to assure me that he held no resentment over having used much of his trip money to take care of my needs.

"_I'll be able to go the next time, so don't w__orry,"_ he'd smiled at me.

We'd then devoured the pastries and downed a pot of tea before heading upstairs to his bed to cuddle and play a little before curling together for a light nap. Upon waking, we'd returned to our relaxing ventures of my reading and him enjoying time on his computer.

Later we'd shared a light dinner and another less than innocent shower before settling down for the night. Yami had talked a little more about the World Pastry Cup before drifting off into a sound sleep in my arms.

After Yami had gone to sleep I lay there another 30 minutes or so before slipping out of his bed and off to my room. Using my laptop, I'd tried to find out how much it would cost for Yami to travel to the World Pastry Cup and attend all three days; my plan to simply figure out how I could afford to help him do so. Unfortunately, even using all of the money that I've saved, I couldn't see how my help would make much difference.

Last night, I'd considered using the money I'd saved for prep school instead, but a brief research into those costs showed me that I'd only have enough to get started and that I couldn't possibly afford to continue attending classes.

That realization had kept me up for most of the night, even while snuggled back in Yami's warm embrace in his completely comfortable bed.

Stifling yet another loud yawn, I glance over at Yami cheerfully driving as he hums along to the radio.

Even though my savings won't put much of a dent in the amount of money he'll need for the trip, I'll offer it anyway. Maybe with what he already has, it will be close to enough that he could ask Raphael for the rest.

* * *

I don't remember nodding off, but I awaken to Yami's polite nudge just as we pull up to the biggest building I've ever seen in my life. It's easily several blocks long and I can't even imagine how wide! In front of the immense structure a large sign beckons with _"Welcome to the __Sheraton Seagaia Resort and Ocean Dome! Please enjoy your stay!"_

"Yami, I thought we were just going for a drive to someplace nice; not to a resort!" I exclaim.

"It's not as bad as you think, Seto," he grins at me. "Admission to Ocean Dome is only a couple thousand yen and do you really think I'd have to pay for a hotel room?"

I'm sure I'm gaping like a fish as I practically stumble along behind Yami into the huge structure.

Somewhere between the white marble sand "beach" and the realistic volcano erupting every 15 minutes or so, the thousands of people running around in and out of the water and the waves constantly crashing beautifully against the "shore," I forget that it's all a man-made fantasy and find myself enjoying our time "at the beach."

We spend the entire day playing and splashing, taking breaks to lie out in the "sun" and to eat a few bites here and there before heading to our room at the adjoining Sheraton Hotel. Following a shared shower where we actually just wash and dry each other, we cuddle together in the soft, king-sized bed and go to sleep.

After an early morning romp in bed, accented by a follow-up performance in the shower, we order breakfast and relax some more until we check out at 1:00 in the afternoon. As Yami drives us back home, we animatedly expound on our trip with each other.

Yami unexpectedly interrupts one of my moments of excited chatter with a quietly reverent, "I'm really glad to see you so happy, Seto."

"So am I, Yami," I reply just as quietly.

* * *

"What's this?" Yami asks as I hand him the envelope containing **Y**152,000 of my savings to him as we get ready for bed.

After Yami's generosity of the resort trip, I'd become even more certain of my decision to give him what money I could to help him get to the World Pastry Cup. We'd both gone back to work this afternoon and during my lunch hour, I'd pulled all but the minimum **Y**5,000 from my bank account.

"It's not much," I offer. "But it should still help toward your trip."

"My trip?" Yami wrinkles his brow at me. "What trip, Seto?"

"To the World Pastry Cup."

His eyes widen in surprise before he opens the envelope and sees what I've given him.

"Seto, I can't…"

"You're always doing something for me, Yami," I interrupt. "It's past time that I do something for you."

Suspiciously misty eyes lock with mine a moment before he looks down and away, nodding quickly in agreement.

"Thank you, Seto," he chokes.

Taking the envelope from his lightly trembling hands, I place it on the dresser nearby before straddling his lap on the edge of the bed.

"Seto," he whispers against my chest.

Lifting his face from my torso, I lean down to brush a kiss against his lips. Moments later I am sprawled on his bed, pinned by his possessive and passionate kisses.

Later, after surfacing from our post coital haze, he tells me that my gift is just enough for his round trip air fair and daily incidentals while in France, which is all that he needed as the rest had been taken care of through other chefs he knew and pre-payments.

I smile into his chest and hold him tighter against me.

* * *

I awaken to the comfortable warmth of Yami's arms and a pleasant ache in my well-loved body. Basking in his embrace a little while longer, I allow myself to remember every time with him over the last few weeks. At first, we'd been all over each other several times a day. I even took him a couple of times, which I definitely want to do again. We'd then slowed to our current pace of three of four times a week after Yami slept through half of his shift one day.

Admittedly, I want him more than I have him now, but it's better for both of us if we're more responsible. And I must admit that I like not having to disguise the aches such vigorous activity had given me.

Lifting away from him a bit, I take a few moments to study Yami's contented face beneath me.

Barely a year ago I could never have imagined…

"Well, that's different," Yami startles me with a sleepy mumble. "Staring me awake. Maybe I'll try that on you sometime."

"I wasn't staring," I quickly look away.

How can he always make me feel so self-conscious?

Well, not always…Quite often he makes me feel…

"Your skin is flushed. What are you thinking about?" Yami murmurs, pulling me tight against him and nibbling on the right side of my neck.

"N-nothing," I stammer, trying to pull away.

"Hmm. Well let's see if I can give you something to think about," he nuzzles into my chest, his hands sliding slowly down my body.

It's already after 2:00 in the afternoon and if I don't stop him now, he'll definitely be late for this evening's shift. Besides, as much as I wouldn't mind another round…

"We can't, Yami," I reluctantly squirm away.

"Sore?" he frowns at me.

"Yami…" I start to placate.

"Mmm. I'm not," he intones, tossing away the covers and laying flat on his back, arms falling lazily on either side of his head.

The sight of his slim body sprawled invitingly in front of me silences all of my protests.


	18. Dust Reprise

_**Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.**_

**Dust (Reprise)**

I lay our fragrant bundle on the floor next to the front door and flop on the couch beside Yami.

We'd gone out shopping for groceries and had wound up walking around for hours looking for a 'proper' Christmas tree.

_"I didn't know that you celebrated Christmas, Seto," _Yami had smiled at me when I'd gone along with his suggestion of getting a tree.

_"I haven't felt like it for a long time,"_ I had admitted.

That was probably more than an understatement on my part. After my mom died and Gozaboro began...I swallow hard at the memory of his abuse that still brings the bile to my throat.

I stumble up from the couch.

"Seto?" Yami stands right behind me, arms circling my waist.

"I-I'll be right back," I push out of his arms and stagger into the bathroom in the hall, immediately losing the modest brunch Yami and I had eaten on our way back home.

He's been dead for months now! It's bad enough that he ruined nearly every Christmas after my ninth birthday! Is it too much to ask to enjoy this one with Yami?

Wiping my mouth on a handful of toilet paper, I head up to my room to shower and change clothes. As I stand under the steaming spray, I vow to myself that I will enjoy having Christmas again for the first time in over 10 years. I won't let that bastard ruin everything for me!

Making my way downstairs after drying off and re-dressing, I smell the familiar aroma of my favorite green tea. I smile to myself as I head into the kitchen and sit down. Not a minute later, a piping hot cup of tea is placed in front of me.

"Better?" Yami smiles lightly.

I nod my assent before picking up the tea and inhaling its aroma.

As we sit and sip quietly together, I remember that it was hard for Yami to let me work through those episodes at first. But once I explained to him that I felt stronger when I handled it on my own, he relented a little; though if I'd been in the bathroom for more than a few minutes, he'd have come to get me anyway.

"Are you sure that you want to do this," he gestures toward the small tree tied up in the corner of his living room.

"Yes," I assert, using a pair of scissors to cut the twine holding in the branches.

I pause for a moment to inhale the sharp smell of pine. The scent reminds me of the last Christmas with my mom. It was a few months before she married Gozaboro; back when it was just the two of us.

"We put up a tree then too," I remember quietly as Yami helps me put our tree in its stand. "I was 4. Mom hung most of the ornaments, but she let me help with the garland."

Abruptly, I remember the gift she'd given me that year; the story book that I used to read to Mokuba.

"We didn't celebrate at our house," Yami's clear voice interrupts my thoughts. "But I had few friends who did. Raph's mom did for a few years. He bought me an apron the year I turned 13 that said, _"Does not cook well with others."__'_

We both laugh at the silliness of the gift.

"We should invite Raphael and Rebecca over for Christmas dinner," I surprise myself by suggesting.

"You mean we should invite Raph to cook our Christmas dinner," he laughs.

"Hn. You're probably right," I smile lightly.

* * *

"I've gained at least five pounds from that meal and it's all your fault," Rebecca groans, cutting her eyes at Raphael.

"Only five? I'd thought at least ten by the way you were shoveling food into your mouth," Yami snickers, heading off to the kitchen.

"If I wasn't too full to move, I'd get you for that, Yami," Rebecca groans playfully.

Raphael laughs and I smile lightly to myself.

A scrumptious smell invades my nose and I turn to see Yami brining out his latest confectionary concoction.

"Eat up!" he orders.

Rebecca is the first to begin savoring the delicious treat.

"So, is that going to be pound 15, Becca," Yami drolls, causing her to pause with the spoon halfway to her mouth.

A bright blush precedes her sputtered, "S-so what? What's it to you anyway?"

"You're right. It's none of my concern. Raph is the one who'll have to carry you across the threshold," he teases.

"You-you…Oh!" she digs back into the dessert with a huff as Raphael snickers beside her.

I can't remember the last time I felt this good with a group of people.

I suppose I never have. The Christmas with my mom was just us two. The years I spent on the run with Mokuba, there were no joyful group activities.

Except maybe that one year at the orphanage when I helped Mokuba and the rest of the kids decorate their tree. That day, everything was so perfect; I almost imagined that the 15 children scattered around me were my younger siblings. I hadn't wanted to leave that night. Hadn't wanted to be alone; hadn't wanted to go back to whatever run-down Hell hole I'd been squatting in to save money. I remember that we'd left that city a few days later.

And that last dinner with Mokuba and the Ishtars. I'd been torn apart by the twin emotions of hope and fear; hope that Mokuba would be fine in Egypt with the Ishtars, fear that I'd never see him again. But the meal Mrs. Ishtar cooked had been quite delicious, and the twins had really enjoyed my company and Mokuba had been obviously very happy to be part of their family. I close my eyes momentarily and remember the complete contentment I felt that evening that I've only come close to once since then; the night Yami and I made love for the first time.

Leaving Yami and Raphael teasing Rebecca, I step into the living room to retrieve my unexpected delight from under the tree.

When we got home from shopping for Christmas dinner yesterday, there was a package inside the screen; a DHL delivery from Egypt.

Yami had suggested that I open it then, but I'd balked at the idea, afraid of what it could contain. Instead I'd countered that I should wait until after Christmas dinner to open it with the rest of our presents. He'd relented; his knowing smile indicating that he'd known more about my reasoning than he'd let on.

Now, I regret my suggestion and wish I could open it without prying eyes.

"Seto, are you alright?" Yami's arms slide around me from behind and I lean into his embrace.

"I'm fine," I confirm, placing my arms on top of his. "Just thinking. And remembering. And wondering what's in that box."

"Do you want to open it after Becca and Raph go home?" he offers.

"No, it's fine," I exhale. I can't run from people forever. And so far, everyone here has proven that they can be trusted.

"Pastries first!" he exclaims, spinning me around and pulling me back to the dining room.

* * *

"Hey! That's pretty nice!" Rebecca exclaims as I place my unwrapped present on the coffee table.

"Your brother has great taste, Seto," Raphael echoes beside her.

I nod dumbly to both of them, unsure of what I should feel about my Christmas gift from Mokuba.

"And it's cool that all the pieces are dragons!" Rebecca notes, leaning forward to get a closer look.

I feel Yami's hand slip supportively under the back of my shirt. With that gesture, I wonder if he understands the significance of Mokuba's present. Even if he doesn't, I'm not really surprised that he knows that I'm feeling uneasy. He seems to have always been able to read my moods.

"My Turn!" Rebecca jumps in, hastily tearing the wrapping from a smallish box next to her.

I use the time to try and take control of my emotions.

"Oh, wow!" she squeals. I can't help but smile at the decidedly un-Rebecca-like sound. Her eyes shine with the glee of a small child, as she carefully examines the small, unassuming gadget.

She then sets the object down gently on the coffee table and tackles Raphael to the floor with a barrage of kisses.

"Hey now! None of that!" Yami laughs. "We just mopped the floor."

He laughs again at the stunned look on Raphael's face as Rebecca climbs off of him.

"You seem very happy about your present," I offer, as she helps Raphael back into his seat.

"Of course I am!" she squeals again. "That's the UX283 Wearable Computer! They only make them in the States and you have to order them months in advance! And I won't even tell you how much they cost!" She slides into Raphael's lap. "You must really love me," she murmurs, snuggling against him.

I almost laugh out loud at the completely sappy grin on Raphael's face.

We continue to work our way through the small stack of presents as we share tea and laughter. I can't remember ever enjoying myself so much.

Except maybe when I would spend hours playing chess with Mokuba.

As Yami opens another pastry-making-related-object from Raphael, I look back at the exquisite gift from my brother.

I haven't played Chess since we left that house. Not once. Even though I have many pleasant memories of teaching my brother to play and then playing him almost nightly, I suppose I associated the game with Gozaboro and what he'd done to us.

I think I hated the game for a while.

Maybe I still do.

I run my fingers over the 'Black King' and sigh to myself.

Gozaboro stole so much from me; my mother, my childhood, my trust of people, little as it was, my love of games, my love of Christmas, my self-worthiness, my security, my home…

Maybe Mokuba is trying to tell me not to let that bastard steal anything more.

Yami's arm slides around my waist and he pulls me close to him. A moment later, my head is in his lap, my eyes closed tightly, and I'm shaking.

Slim fingers caress though my hair for I don't know how long, calming me; allowing me to center myself again.

"Do you know how to play chess, Yami," I rasp.

"No," he replies quietly. "Are you going to teach me?"

"Yes," I murmur.

"I'd like that," I hear him smile.

"I made you some tea, Seto. It's on the table in front of you," Raphael's concern intrudes upon our moment, and I suddenly remember that he and Rebecca are still here.

"I used to get migraines like that all the time before I changed my diet," Rebecca's lilt offers."You should probably monitor your salt intake, Seto,"

"Hn," I mumble, glad that they've drawn their own conclusion and that I won't be expected to offer one for my decidedly odd behavior.

"Well, if Raph cooked for us, I'm sure that we'd be able to take better care of ourselves," Yami inserts smoothly into the short silence.

"Man, you're good, Yami," Rebecca laughs.

* * *

At breakfast a few days later, Yami hands me a blank envelope.

"Yami, what…?"

"It's a very late Christmas present," he beams.

Expecting to find a gift certificate of some kind or something similar, I am unprepared for what's actually inside; a letter welcoming me to Kibougaoka Gakuin, one of th**e **_Toshin_Yobiko satellite schools.

As I stare at the envelope's contents in awe, he slides his arms around my shoulders, kissing my cheek lightly.

"Yami…" I stammer; my voice lost in the emotions rushing through me.

"With a little persuasion, a lot of pastries, a donation from Raph and Becca agreeing to teach one of the math classes, we got this prep school to let you into their class for next January's exams. It started last week so you'll be a bit behind, but I know that you can make that up in no time. That's if you still want to go," he murmurs against my neck.

Dropping the papers on the table, I pull him into my lap and kiss him senseless. And if my face happens to be a little wet, my lover and best friend would never say anything about it.


	19. The Play Reprise

_**Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.**_

**The Play - Reprise**

I'm startled from a light slumber by the phone ringing. The clock on the bed table flashes 4:53 am at me and I groan. Rolling over slowly, I drag the receiver to my ear.

"We just got to our new hotel," Yami gushes to my sleep fogged brain. "We're at the Hotel Le Medecis in Blois."

It's a little hard to understand him, which I attribute to my less than 3 hours of sleep.

"Mmm," I nod, belatedly realizing that he can't see me.

Yami has called me every day since they left to tell me about what he and Raphael have been doing on their trip.

Usually at a more reasonable hour, though. He'll probably have to work overtime to pay the phone bill this month.

"I had the most exquisite escargot for lunch at La Cave Moines. It's an underground mushroom and escargot farm in Chenehutte," he continues in an excited slur.

The realization that he's actually slurring his words shocks me awake.

"Yami, are you drunk?" I gape into the phone.

"Maybe a little," he laughs. "But it's not my fault! After breakfast we went to St. Hilaire-St. Florent for a visit and tasting of Vouvray at Bouvet-Ladubay. Not that you would know this, but Vouvray is the largest white wine appellation of the region where we're staying. And it's made exclusively from the Chenin Blanc! And since the 4th century it's been grown only in this region! I had to sample it a bit.

"A bit!" I hear Raphael laugh in the background. "It's supposed to be a wine 'tasting', Yami. Not a wine guzzling!"

"I wasn't guzzling!" Yami responds to him with an even more pronounced slur.

"Right!" Raphael laughs. "Tell Seto how much you 'tasted' Yami!"

"Whatever," Yami grumbles.

"As long as you had fun, Yami," I offer, amused by the picture that his inebriated state brings to my mind.

Not that we haven't indulged a few times, occasionally with Raphael and Rebecca, but I've never actually seen Yami anything past a little buzzed.

"It was a lot of fun!" he gushes again. "And then after that fabulous lunch we went to the Chateau of Blois, where the King of France stayed a lot. And Joan of Arc went there once to have her banner blessed!"

"Tell him about dinner, Yami!" Raphael yells in the background.

"I'm getting to that!" Yami yells back, obviously forgetting, in his less than sober state, that he's holding the phone right at his mouth.

I hold the phone away from my face and then lay it on the pillow beside me as he goes on to yammer excitedly about 'Le Medecis' and that it was 'the best meal he's ever had in his life' and the 'locally exclusive wines served with each course.'

"Raph and I probably finished off a bottle each, but it was so worth it!" he reveals.

"Is that why you're feeling no pain, Yami?" I tease.

"Well, I may have had a few drinks at lunch as well," he confesses.

"Stop lying to him, Yami," Raphael admonishes.

Now that he's closer to the phone, I can hear that he's just as drunk as Yami. I wonder if Raphael's phone bill will be just as high. If not, maybe Yami will have him help with ours.

"What would you know?" Yami challenges.

I hear a brief scuffle and then Raphael is on the phone telling me about the three out of four bottles of wine Yami finished off at the tasting, the three bottles they shared at lunch and the two and a half bottles they knocked off at dinner.

"Stop telling him that!" Yami screams drunkenly. There's a loud crash and the line goes dead.

I resist the urge to laugh out loud, opting instead to hang up the phone and try to get a little more sleep before class.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"_I promise we'll go together next time,"_ Yami had moaned into my ear, before coming against my stomach with a loud gasp. It wasn't long before I'd followed him into bliss, the contracting walls of his tight passage pulling me along. We'd collapsed together in shared satisfaction.

The next day he and Raphael headed to Lyon, France for the World Pastry Cup and Post-Tour. Rebecca had driven the lot of us to the airport and then dropped me off at work. Yami had wanted me to stay in the suite at the Wyndam while they were gone, but I'd promised him that I'd be fine at home alone.

I've spent most of my life alone.

After my dad died and before my mom married Gozaboro, she worked a lot to take care of us, so I was home alone more often than not. And then when my mom and I lived with Gozaboro, I was alone a lot as well. After Mokuba and I ran away and he'd been adopted, I'd found myself alone again.

Even while I stayed with Mr. Mouto…He'd been kind to me; he'd listened to my story, but I still could only allow him to get but so close…

And then those years I lived on the streets…

I shiver in remembrance as I sip my tea, the sound seeming to echo in the empty kitchen.

Yami's only going to be gone for 16 days, barely two weeks. It's not so long that I shouldn't be able to stay here in this house by myself until he gets home.

But still…

I look around the quiet space, trying to find calm in the pervasive silence.

Downing the rest of my lukewarm tea in one gulp, I escape to the living room. I turn on the TV to add some sound to the suddenly oppressively quiet house. Wrapping the blanket from the back of the couch around me, I settle in to watch the end of one of Yami's Wednesday night dramas. I barely pay the story any attention, but allow the familiar cantor of voices to lull me to sleep.

My hope that the comfortable setting would allow me to actually sleep tonight is dashed quicker than I'd expected. The news which follows the drama has barely started when I awake gasping for air and clutching the blanket around me.

I've talked to him nearly everyday, and most of the 6 nights that he's been gone, but it's not the same as having him here. I didn't realize until now how much I depended on Yami's presence beside me to sleep.

Every time I close my eyes, Gozaboro is there. Death removed him from my world, but hasn't driven him from my memories; my dreams. Sleeping beside Yami kept him away.

The phone ringing startles me, but I reach for it eagerly since I'm certain that it's Yami.

"Missed me so much you had to call again?" I taunt when I pick up the handset, only to be met with silence.

"Yami?' I press.

"Um, no," a familiar, yet strangely sedate, voice replies.

"Rebecca?"

"It's not like I'm lonely or scared or anything," she seems to trip over herself explaining. "It's just so boring with Raph gone. And I thought that you might be bored too with Yami gone, so I figured that we could be bored together!"

I don't claim to know Rebecca well at all, but what I do know of her suggests that her being lonely or bored without Raphael is highly unlikely.

All at once, I remember part of my conversation with Yami earlier.

"_You sound tired. Are you getting enough sleep?"_ he'd asked.

I smile to myself; trust Yami to recruit Rebecca to check up on me.

"That's fine," I agree to her assertion.

We start off talking about the news, move past her plans for a third doctorate, into a serious discussion of 'nature' versus 'nurture' and onto the latest computer technology. Dawn catches us debating which of Yami's pastries tastes the best.

"Crap, is that the sun?" Rebecca yawns loudly into the phone.

"It is,' I affirm with a quieter yawn.

"I have a class in two hours," she groans.

"And my class starts in three," I note. "So we should probably get off the phone."

"Yeah. Later, Seto!"

"Good-bye, Rebecca. And thank you." I want her to know that I appreciate her kindness.

"I don't know what you mean, Seto," she yawns. "I was just keeping myself from being bored. Bye!"

I shake my head at the hasty dial tone. Dropping the blanket back onto the couch, I head up to our room. Hopefully a hot shower will wake me up enough so that I won't sleep through my morning classes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I'm grateful for the distraction of my prep classes; they give my mind something else to focus on other than the temporary emptiness of that house.

On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I work from 9:30 am to 1:30 pm and then go to class from 2:30 pm to 6:30 pm. I'll eat something light when I get home, do my homework and usually fall into a fitful sleep on the couch around 11:30 pm.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays I go to class from 9:00 am to 3:30 pm and then work from 4:30 pm to closing, which usually means I get home about 12:30 am. I'll then do homework from about 1:00 am to 3:00 am. If I don't fall asleep at my desk, I'll crawl into Yami's bed, _our_ bed, and get about three hours of restless sleep.

I have Saturdays free to catch up on any homework or reading I didn't do during the week. Sundays I work from 9:30 am to 3:30 pm.

Yami had wanted me to cut back on my working hours because he thought that I wouldn't get enough sleep, but I reassured him that I would be fine. And before he left on his trip, I truly believed that.

But facing that empty bed every night is so much harder than I'd expected. I often find myself counting the days until his return.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Koizomi!"

I snap awake at the sound of my boss's voice, the item I was scanning on the floor at my feet and the store patron in front of me frowning disapprovingly.

"I apologize for my employee's rudeness," he bows to the matronly woman. "I assure you that this will not happen again. Please accept another of your chosen item free of charge."

The woman huffs in disdain, grabs another of the item she was purchasing from the shelf and briskly exits the store.

"I apologize for neglecting my duties," I incline my head politely.

"I depend on you, Koizomi," my boss frowns. "You know that I like you, but if you are unable to work the hours you accepted while you go to school, then I'll have to make other arrangements."

"I won't betray your trust again," I vow.

"It's fine," he pats me kindly on the shoulder. "But maybe you should get more sleep."

I nod dumbly at his light admonition.

Two more days and Yami will be home. I just need to last until then.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Seto!" Yami exclaims in shock as I crush him in my arms when he exits the plane. The disapproving murmurs around us fade into the background as I savor the close contact.

It's been too long. 16 days was too long to be apart from him. I know I'm appearing desperate, but I don't care. I haven't slept since I passed out at the register on Thursday evening; haven't eaten since Friday morning.

I didn't mean to become this dependant on him; didn't mean to need him this much.

"Seto?" he questions in concern as I bury my face against his neck and cling to him.

How weak must I appear in his eyes at this moment? I'd assured him that I'd be fine; bragged that I am perfectly capable of living without him for 'such a short period of time.'

I couldn't make one night.

I'm not sure how it happened, but I find myself in a secluded place seated beside Yami; my head in his lap and those desperately-missed fingers stroking through my hair.

I close my eyes.


	20. Will Turn To

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

**Will Turn To**

We spent most of the first three days after Yami got home in bed. Though much of my time was spent sleeping, many of those hours were spent wrapped around each other in pleasure.

Who knew that my loss of emotional control could be such a powerful aphrodisiac?

When I woke up on our way home from the airport, I crawled into Yami's lap and tried to make a meal of him right there in Raphael's car. Our first 'welcome home' coupling happened just inside the front door. Though rougher than usual, since it had been so long and our only lubrication had been our saliva, that hadn't deterred us from our second round in the living room or our third round in the shower. We'd then slept about 4 hours before our fourth and fifth rounds in our bed; and then collapsed for almost 16 hours.

Well, I slept for that long.

When I woke up the next afternoon, Yami told me that I'd been out for the better part of a day and that he'd told my boss I had a bad cold. I suppose that was a better explanation than to say that I was too exhausted and sore to stand at a register or stock shelves.

Not that I really cared at the time; I was just glad to have Yami back home.

But that was then.

Now, I find it difficult to face the man who I'd allowed to see such dependency and desperation from me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The tea he makes us after dinner is wonderful, as usual. But throughout our light conversation, I keep my gaze fixed on my cup.

"You've been a bit distracted lately," he notes as he puts our cups in the sink.

I shrug.

"So," he slides his arms around my neck and places his chin on the top of my head, "Are you going to tell me about it or should I guess?"

It's familiar to have him leaned onto me like this; he's successfully used the same ploy in the past to coax me into other conversations that I was trying to avoid.

This time I slip from his grasp and head up to my old room with a hasty, "I'll be down when I finish my homework."

Actually, I've already finished all of the required reading, exercises and lesson plans for my current classes and much of the same for two of my next set of classes; boredom and the need to keep my mind occupied during Yami's absence had compelled me.

But that was the easiest excuse I could think of to get away from him.

Besides, it's not really something I can blurt out over a cup of tea...

I was so desperate to see him that I didn't care about the throng of people in the airport as I tried to merge us into one being.

I was so anxious to be with him that I didn't care that my climbing onto Yami blocked Raphael's view of the road and a delivery truck had to swerve into the other lane to avoid hitting us.

I needed his touch so much that I didn't care that he'd be mortified and upset about tearing me; I didn't care about being torn.

Even while still healing, my desire to be claimed by him is almost overwhelming. Claiming him last night temporarily satisfied my body, but I still want...still need...

How can I face him knowing that I would do anything he asks? No matter what it would mean to me?

How could Yami see me as anything but a scared, damaged kid after this?

I re-direct my attention from the swirl of confusion in my mind to the remaining reading and exercises for two more of my classes. At this rate, I'll be so far ahead that the classes will become a complete waste of my time and money.

Maybe I can take my entrance exams early.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you still sore?" Yami moans against the back of my neck as we spoon together in our bed.

"No," I lie.

'Anything,' I think to myself as he retrieves our lube from the bedside table.

But as much as I want him, I can't stifle my gasp of pain as his slick finger slides into me.

"Seto?" He draws back with a frown.

Always warm, always concerned; always worried about the 'scared little kid...'

I hate it.

"It's fine," I assert, pulling his hand back to finish what he started.

"Seto," he protests, his voice closer to a moan than a refusal.

"I want you to take me, Yami," I whisper in that tone that I know he can't resist.

I'm not a kid, I'm not scared and I'm not so fragile that I can't endure a little pain to bond fully with my lover.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

My lover...

He is my lover. And my best friend.

And maybe I'm underestimating him.

Maybe he doesn't think...

I look up from my books as he knocks on the doorframe of my old room.

"I won't be an emotional coward if you won't," he grins at me.

I almost don't notice the strain in his face, but the fact that the grin doesn't reach his eyes is hard for me to miss.

"You said that you were fine," he continues quietly, leaning in the open doorway. "And I didn't really want to know otherwise because I wanted you so much..."

He pauses a moment before continuing with a sigh.

"I don't understand why you let me hurt you," he looks away.

"I'm not hurt, Yami," I insist.

"But…"

"I don't mind that you want me," I try to explain. "Because I want the same thing."

"I understand, but…"

"At the airport, I know that I embarrassed you," I interrupt, dodging his line of questioning and heading to the subject that's front and center in my mind.

"No, quite the opposite, actually," he laughs, allowing me to change the subject; not that I'm naïve enough to believe that he's not going to bring it up again.

"I felt...loved...cherished...possessed," he continues. "No one I've been with has ever made me the center of their world before. It's...electrifying."

"You don't think less of me for being so...needy," I clarify.

"Of course not!" he scoffs.

"You weren't gone that long, but for me…" I trail off.

"Seto…"

"I just needed to touch you," I explain. "Holding you at the airport wasn't enough. In the car, I wanted…wanted…

"You wanted to devour me," he leers, stepping into the room.

I nod once in affirmation.

"That's okay," he grins. "Because I wanted to be devoured." He leans down to kiss me.

The bed in my room hasn't been used for sleeping in months. Yami and I work hard to make sure that trend continues.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thanks to my working ahead on my lessons, I was able to test out of two of my classes. After breezing through the lesson books of another three of my classes, my advisor set up a self study program for me. I then took less than 3 months to finish the entire prep school curriculum. After that, I passed the exam to enter university in October, with little effort. My rank as #1 on the exam also afforded me a modest scholarship.

Despite Yami's suggestion that I cut back on my hours at the store, I continue to work as I had before as my scholarship doesn't cover all of my tuition or my books and I don't want to continue to rely on Yami to pay my school fees.

Now, I'm looking at the end of my first year of college in a few weeks; a reality that was merely a pipe dream before. This summer vacation I'll try to work more hours or find something else part time to help with next semester's expenses.

Looking up from my studies at the third ring of the doorbell, I wonder why Yami hasn't answered it. Getting up from my desk, I step out of my old room to yell down for him when I hear the shower going off.

'Well, that explains why he didn't answer. He must have gotten all filthy working in the garden again,' I think to myself as I slip swiftly down the stairs between the fifth and sixth ring.

Opening the door, I nearly fall over in shock to see Mokuba and the Ishtars standing on the front porch.

"Big brother!" Mokuba exclaims, throwing himself into my arms.

I'm too shocked to speak and just hug him tightly. I thought it would be years before I saw him again! If ever!

"Mokuba," I breathe. "What are you doing here?"

"He simply would not stop talking about seeing you," Mrs. Ishtar supplies as she sits on the couch, the twins flopping down next to her.

"No, he would not," Mr. Ishtar echoes as he closes the front door.

"So we made a deal," Mokuba chokes, picking up the story. "If I passed all of my classes, including the accelerated ones and my extracurricular ones with a 'B' or higher, I could spend the summer with you."

"And he aced every class," Yami pipes up beside me.

I turn in surprise to his matchless smile.

"Y-you knew?" I gape.

"I just want you to be happy, Seto," he intones lightly.

I find myself at a complete loss for words.

"Seto," Mrs. Ishtar interjects into the silence. "Do you happen to know a good barber or at least happen to have a pair of scissors?"

"Scissors…why would you need…?"

"Remember what I told you, big brother?" Mokuba interrupts, stepping from my embrace. "About my hair and seeing you again?"

My eyes widen in comprehension as he uncoils the tight bun at the base of his skull and his voluminous hair springs free.

"A deal is a deal," Mr. Ishtar pronounces as I stare at my brother's mane which reaches to the middle of his thighs.

Happily I pull Mokuba back into my arms.

- Fin -

**A/N: Thanks to all who have followed me along this long journey and to those newly on the band wagon! You're much appreciated! Join me as I finish Cottage Cheese, DMNTM, Launch, Lollipop and all my other YGO stories that I promise to finish! ^_^**


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